


Unadulterated

by LittleVenusFLyTrap



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cum Eating, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Double Penetration, Edging, Exhibitionism, F/M, Force Sensitivity, Ignoring the First Orders relationship guidlines, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren dicks you down for loads of chapters basically, Kylo Ren is daddy and you like it, Masturbation, Mind Games, Misuse of the Force, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sassy Reader, Sexual Roleplay, Shibari, The continuous use of the work 'pussy', Update every Thursday, We can rule the universe together, bdsm relationship, consensual D/S, im so sorry, rope bunny, thigh riding, voyuerism, way more plot than i orginally planned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 108,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleVenusFLyTrap/pseuds/LittleVenusFLyTrap
Summary: You could feel it in every move he made. It felt like a heater had been turned up to full or you were laid on the Tatooine desert dressed in full winter gear; when he entered the room a slither of sweat would worm its way down your neck and into the crevice of your back. Overwhelming. It was overwhelming. You don’t know why you felt it. Other officers felt nothing but disdain or envy when he glided along the floors of the flagship, but not you. Never you. Instead, you embraced the crippling heat, the burning feeling in your veins and the tight set of your muscles.This is what power felt like, you thought. Unadulterated powerful energy. And you liked it.(Chapter 24 coming soon)
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 172
Kudos: 441





	1. Uniforms Only Hide So Much

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what the Lieutenants do as an actual job role, so I've decided they're going to do whatever I want them to. Which will include choking on Kylo Rens dick. This has been a PSA.

Your only true, good decision, you made in the First Order was buying a coffee machine of some morally dubious trader in Tatooine. It made one sludge like imitation of coffee that was good enough when you have three hours sleeps and your bed feels like it’s mad of razor blades. Stretching out your back, you downed your coffee bean mud and pulled up your hair. Being a Lieutenant of the First Order meant being a whore to the clock, everything worked in a perfectly controlled system. You woke at five, you showered at half five, breakfast is half six and if you are late you will not be fed. Your uniform must be pressed and worm immaculately - no tear, wear or unauthorised ‘adornments’ (after Lieutenant Shafer was slapped for wearing a scrunchie you make sure to remember the last rule). You made sure your grey uniform was styled to perfection, since perfection was the only acceptable version of yourself for the First Order.

When you released the look on the door Levi was already ‘dressed’ and waiting outside. _Dressed being the operative word_ , you thought.

“Fucking hell” you sighed, “where is the rest of your uniform?”

Levi was your only acceptable friend on the Finalizer and currently had no hat, one missing sock and what looks like SE-14R blaster burns in his shoes. You used to believe Levi looked ethereal. Tall, pointed face and delicate cheekbones you dreamed of. He was bent over trying to hid his one sock when he looked up at you.

He gave you a cheeky smile, ‘If I said the washing machine destroyed it, would you believe me?”

“You’d never put your clothes in the washing machine, that requires effort”

He laughed, “you got me there”

You soothed invisible lint of your clothes before knocking your boot with his.

“Remove the other sock, we’ll get ahold of someones spare shoes and no one will know the difference”

He pushed his pointer finger into your forehead and twisted it in circles, “Unless Kylo Ren reads my mind and realises that they are not my shoes”.

“You think Kylo Ren cares enough about you to read your mind?”

“wow Darling, you are a coldhearted bitch”

He said every word with a smile that felt like sunshine.

You had never been on the receiving end of the Commanders power and didn’t intend to be. An officer who lied about mistakes made during a mission was pulled infront of him once. They pushed him to his knees with his face dragged towards the Commanders boot. When a gloved hand touched the officers forehead you heard a ‘crunch’ in your ears; Even now you’re not sure if you imagined it or the pure power of the force had made your ears ring.

_He didn’t even acknowledge you existed, you barely saw his chest rise,_ you thought. _A wiser women wouldn’t have stayed to watch the torture of an officer._

But you did. It was like watching a predator devour its prey. The officer wasn’t bleeding, was not touched besides a single brush of a finger but you felt his should rip from his body. Screaming, so much screaming.

_Fuck. Fuck._

The officer had spasmed on the floor for twenty minutes afterwards. No one took a breath, afraid that one sound would break the glass of tension and they’d be next. When the Commander walked past you to leave, his job so easily completed, his gloved hand brushed the tip of your fingers.  
  


A single touch felt like plasma through your veins.

_Look at me, look at me_

You could feel it in every move he made. It felt like a heater had been turned up to full or you were laid on the Tatooine desert dressed in full winter gear; when he entered the room a slither of sweat would worm its way down your neck and into the crevice of your back. Overwhelming. It was overwhelming. You don’t know why you felt it. Other officers felt nothing but disdain or envy when he glided along the floors of the flagship, but not you. Never you. Instead, you embraced the crippling heat, the burning feeling in your veins and the tight set of your muscles.

This is what power felt like, you thought. Unadulterated powerful energy. And you liked it.

He never looked at you.

“Dreadnought to Y/N, Dreadnought to Y/N” laughed Levi, “this is your captain speaking, please report when you have stopped thinking about Kylo Rens rippling pecs, over and out”

He swung an arm over your shoulder and tugged you down the hall. Missing breakfast would mean not eating till later and Levi would not survive that long without sustenance.

You gave him a grin, Levi was the only officer in your graduating class who understood your fascination with the Commander. If First Order trading cards existed he’d sell a kidney for half of one Kylo Ren, maybe a finger for Captain Phasma and would rip any Hux to tiny pieces. He graduate second to you and you like to remind him of it before his ego extends beyond the outer rim. You might have fantasised about him once, except-

“Saying that” he pulled a tress of his hair into his bun with a pin “i’d ride that lightsaber all the way to Karazak”

Except ‘that’.

You scoffed, “i’m struggling to figure out how that would work, give me some details”

“Oh my” he gave you a nudge with the pad of his shoulder, “wanting to know the inner workings of my dirty fantasies are you? That’s not very safe for work. What would General Hux say about your wanton nature?” Levi cackled.

You turned down the dredges of halls of the Finalizer, narrowly missing two Stormtroopers who were probably on their way to do something patriotically stupid. Captain Phasma always called them a wall, a useful blockade if you were ever attacked. You don’t think she considered them worthy or anything besides being useful cannon fodder.

“I think he’d say…” you knocked your knuckles against the long-legged Sergeants arm, “that we are behaving in such a selfish manner, our loyalty is not to our sex drive but..” You mimicked.

“…to the First Orders mission” you both mocked, perfectly in sync.

When you entered the dining hall it was already full of staff, separated into their respected class.Not that you were expecting anything less. The First Order had a way of separating people into groups they could manage, ironic considering they were meant to be a united force. The name on your cuff offered you a slither of power amongst your peers and Lieutenants were often given a table right next to the windows; Leaving you an uninterrupted view of the black mass engulfing the ship.

You placed a slither of bread, and something else that looked edible, on a plate and sat down with Levi.

He pushed a spoon into what looked like Porg guts and grimaced, “remember when we had dinner in Canto Bight? On that god damn supply run. Now that..” He stabbed a piece of meat that looked like it still moving “… _that_ was food”

“You got drunk and threw-up on a Roulette wheel that was still spinning” you corrected.

His thin lips pulled into a grin, “Good times”.

“Sort out your hair, you look like a Wookie”, you nudged his locks that competed with yours in length, “I’m sure the Commander would love to come back to his Lieutenants looking like they frolicked through a field”.

You knew the Commander was due to dock his Tie Fighter today after a week long excursion. You didn’t know where he went and you knew you weren’t supposed too. Recently, more whispers have surrounded Kylo Rens long absences and seemingly out of character disappearances. People talk of a scavenger and fragments of a broken resistance. You knew your role included following orders not asking questions but you felt an unease. Like someone had pulled a thread in fate and everything was starting to unravel.

When you and Levi has finished your makeshift ‘breakfast’ you parted ways. Levi had orders to focus on securing trade routes for certain metals for Tie Fighter parts. His interest was far more technical than yours, you preferred the dark politics of the first order. Although, you had to look over the fixing a Turbolaser cannon before monitoring the radars for the rest of your shift.

It was easy work and you always completed it with flawless accuracy. Levi called you ‘prim and proper’, you called it ‘not wanting to be killed for failing at your job’.

You spent the majority of the shift monitoring the space around the ship and ensuring no Officer falls asleep on the job. More than not, you use this time to fantasise. You can imagine the sauna that engulfs you when the commander enters the room, the rub of the leather on the muscle of his thighs. A burning feeling creeps upon your inner thighs and you feel yourself let out a sigh.

_No one would even notice,_ you thought. Your finger brushes the belt on your uniform and dips slightly to rub the tip up bare skin of your hip.

You could feel the wetness pooling in the lace of your panties. Mind wandering, you think about what the Commander would like, would he let you cum riding the muscle of his thigh? Would he let you cum at all? God, you know he’d control you. You can only imagine the feeling of his gloved hands digging dark bruises in to your thigh while he forced your pussy to grind circles on his quad. Your arousal leaking a dark mark onto the his trousers that you know the other officers would see if he past them.

A blush has wormed its way onto your cheeks and you slip your hand under the waist band of your uniform. Quickly, you push your legs underneath your control centre to avoid the prying eyes of your peers.

You can almost feel his breath near your cheek. The idea of him calling you his “good girl” has you forcing your pointer finger under you panties to rest on your clit. Grinding your finger into the nub you bite your lip at the dull pressure your cunt was begging for.

_Fuck,_ you thought, _I can’t cum here._

Your hand had other plans. Gathering wetness from your pussy you rub it on the your clit, creating hard circles on the nub. Knees pushed up to the consul, you widen your legs so you can grind your crouch on to the tips of your fingers.

“You okay Y/N?”

You almost hit your knees when you hear a soft voice behind you.

_Shit, not now_

Officer Mandalay, the older of the two twins, stood behind you. The soprano of her voice range through your ears as you slowly inserted a finger into your greedy cunt.

_“_ yes” you breath, “i just…i think I ate something which made me feel…bad”

_I can’t remove my hand, she’ll notice it straight away_

You ignore the traitorous voice in your head telling you that you were never going to remove your hand anyway.

You scooped a drop of wetness onto your fingered while Mandalay gave you a sweet smile.

_What she would think of you,_ you thought, _you dirty whore. Fantasising at work, disgusting._

You shivered at the voice in your mind, it sounded suspiciously gravelly. More masculine.

“well”, the Officer tapped your head with her palm, “the Commander will be here any minute, so try to hold back any vomit.” She laughed.

Your core gave an uncontrolled clench and you felt the incessant pulsing of your pussy.

_Shit, shit, shit,_ you thought, _he can’t see me like this. He’ll know, he’ll see straight through me._

The sound of aggressive foot steps made Mandalay look towards the entrance of the command centre and you took the opportunity to take your hand out of your underwear. You were trying to wipe your fingers on your uniform trousers when you felt it. That prickling burn down your body.

_No, fuck no,_ you stood ready to greet him, yours legs shaking with previous pleasure and fingers pruned with wetness.

The Commander entered the room with large steps, part of his black attire burnt and the obsidian of his helmet a sharp contrast to the see of grey. He looked powerful, he felt mad.  
  


“Lieutenant” he gave a sharp growl, “i need to speak with you about mapping planets with possible resistance bases”

“i-“

He turned his head, scrutinising you behind the mask.

“Not you”, he dismissed, “Lieutenant Mandalay will assist me”

This was not happening, you will not be humiliated. Officer Mandalay took a step forward, the blue of her eyes assessing your reaction. She was right to look at you like that, you were the best Lieutenant here.

“I assure you Commander, I am perfectly capable of helping you. I graduated top of my class-“

The obsidian of his mask bore into you, the words sticking into the crevice of your throat. You’re cunt gave a sudden lurch and you could feel the rub of your clit on the lace. You could feel his eyes analysing you, you knew without seeing him that he had looked you up and down.

“Do not interrupt me again” he voice coming out low and distorted, “i suggest Lieutenant, that if you wish to work with me, you will be dressed appropriately”

You had no qualms that you knew exactly where he was looking, a hand instinctively grabs your trousers.

_Theres no way, Theres no way he can see it,_ you thought.

Your palm grasps the drying cum you had wiped on your trousers and painful blush creeped over your body.

Without another world he walks out, Mandalay behind him. She only gives you a curious once over before keeping up with the Commanders punishing pace.

_How did you know exactly where to look?,_ the crippling anxiety pulls a rope around your heart, _How did you know what I’ve done?_


	2. I Know All I Need To Know About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get a moment with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second chapter. I apologise if my spelling or grammar lacks. I have a major issue with that. Anyway, enjoy and please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoy. 
> 
> Chapter updates are usually on Thursdays but I was quick to write this one and thought I'd publish it early. All other updates will be on a Thursday.

You didn’t know whether you were alive or dead. Pillows had indented to the shape of your head, your blankets were wrapped around you so tight that you could barely breath- you don’t remember the last time you drank water. Shame swelled in your head and you breathed a dramatic sigh into your pillowcase.

_Imagine,_ you thought, _letting your horniness get the better of you and losing your chance to impress._

It was one little mistake. Sure, touching yourself on shift wasn’t smart but it’s not like any of your superiors even notice you exist half the time. Sure, it was a slip of the hand. Sure, you could have been fired or worse but we all have moments of weakness.

Right?

“Open up…” an incessant banging railed your door, “…you’ll never guess who I met!” Levi pronounced through the steel of the door.

You could have a guess at who he met.

“Leave me alone, I’m wallowing in self pity dramatically and don’t have time for your energy right now” you sighed, flopping on your back like a longing maiden from a romance play.

“I have sweets”

“Red ones?”

“Of course! don’t be an idiot, open the door”

You pushed an arm out of your covers to press a button on the bedside table. You heard a _whoosh_ and the airlock released. A cheery-faced Levi entered with all the grace of a seasoned dancer and all the exuberance of a Vulptex. He looked like the human embodiment of a supernova and it was far too bright for your eyes.

“so..” He throws you a bag which thuds off your chest with a resounding _slap, “…_ I’m standing there, supervising some engineering work and totally getting my rocks off by telling the officers to speed up. Anyway, in walks Kylo Ren; Devastatingly tall and he looks over the job..”

“ And he goes..” He sighs flopping onto your bed, “‘Good work’. He told me my work was good, I almost fucking came”

_Please don’t talk about cumming at work, I’m still suffering from PTSD._

“Good for you” you said.

You gave a grumpy huff and poured some of the red gummies Levi had got you onto your boobs. Who needs a bowl when you have tits? Levi laid beside you. In the small cot you he took up all the room that was left. Each Lieutenant got their own sleeping quarters with enough ‘necessities’ to get you to the next shift. One stiff-as-a-rod single bed, a compact shower/bathroom and a few desks for data pads, books or anything work related.

At the end of Officer training you and Levi had cut a hole in the wall. Small enough to not be seen during room inspections but big enough to hold confiscated items. He had even built a tiny mechanical door to hide your secrets. Little treasures from planets past sat in there - dried flowers, bottles of sand and gems. No one expected luxury when entering the first order, but you had expected to be able to keep small parts of you.

Though, it was not like the First Order was known for hospitality.

“What has got you so down?” Levi brushed your cheek with his hand.

You remembered the brush of the Commanders hand on yours, the feel of smoothed leather and the clench of your core.

“I lost a job with Kylo Ren, he basically sees me as inept”

Levi laid on his side to watch you, a frown pulled at the pink of his lips.

“I head Mandalay got a job with him, which one of the twins was it? The nice one or the wicked witch of the Finalizer?” He groaned, gesturing his hands animatedly.

You sigh, “The nice one”

“Well shit” he pulled you into a hug “That sucks worse, cause you can’t even hate her for it…but you’re not telling me everything are you?”

A resounding blush worked appeared on your cheeks. It’s not like you can say ‘ _yeah, I fucked myself thinking about Kylo Ren and he saw me with my juices all over my thigh. Now he thinks I’m a slutty dumbass and wouldn’t let me on a simple mapping project’._

“Did you suck Kylo Rens dick?”

“What? No!”

“Oh”, he takes a sigh before pushing a sweet into his mouth, “well, anything you say now will just be disappointing”

The words choke in your mouth. Even Levi could never know your shame, no matter how many secrets the two of you shared together. The embarrassment of the that moment is not something you can just bounce back from.

Nor did you want him to know how close you were to getting on your knees and begging to suck the Commanders dick.

* * *

You spent the next day rightfully melancholy. Lt Mandalay sat next to you at breakfast which almost gave you heart palpitations. Ever part of you wanted to berate her for taking what was yours. But, it was not her fault that you were shrouded in failure.

“Kalea” you spoke, your spoon hovering centimetres from your mouth “I’m not angry at you for taken that job, you deserve it”

Kalea, Lt Mandalay, gave you a soft smile, so reminiscent of the princesses of childhood picture books. Her beauty was not something to scoff at. Her skin was effortlessly flawless; a rich black with a bronze undertone that made her shine like smooth tourmaline. Plus, she was far more kind than any First Order officer you had met.

“No” she pushed an extra piece of bread on to your plate “That work was far more difficult than my capabilities, it was not right for me at all. However, I did put in a good word for you with the Commander. I told him that you were perfect for any role he had available. I do not think I have the strength to work with him”

_Strength? How could anyone not want to be pushed to their best. That is, after all, what makes us formidable._

You gave her the sweetest smile you could manage, while trying to hide the burning happiness inside of you. Imagine -if next time- it’s yours.

You were surprised at how fast the calling came.

The transfer of kyber crystals was your main focus for the rest of your shift. Getting them to bases (or the Finalizer) was extremely difficult as the mines were prime targets for Resistance attacks and travelling with them was dangerous at best. You spent that majority of your time looking through safe travel routes and making sure there were enough ground forces defending mining planets. Ineptitude in this role could end in death and you weren’t keen to be black marked by the First Order.

In your mind, you saw his presence before you felt it. It was like, a harsh melody playing in your head. One that you could not stop listening to. Then in crawled that incessant burning feeling down your neck and you stood up with attention.

_I can feel you._

The door opened to reveal the Commander, guarded by two Stormtroopers who seem to give you an odd appraisal before standing to attention by the door. You guessed that they didn’t see you as much of a threat.

_Ignore the fact that the Commander is fucking hot and just impress. Do not let your vagina do the talking for you._

Kylo gave a slow meander around the small work room and you standing next to your command desk. You felt so insignificantly small in this moment.

“Sir, I-“ you started, he held up a hand to stop you.

“I’m here because I need a guarded escort” he said, standing by the opposite wall. He was looking out into the stars. If you weren’t the only one here you’d wonder if he was even addressing anyone; his voice lacked any distinction behind his modulator.

“I was assured you’d be up to the task and everyone else already has obligations necessary to the First Order. You, however…” he turned to face you “…are dispensable”

You tried not to visually cringed at the idea that he had chosen you because you were the only one available.

_Fuck you, I’m worth more than something easily replaceable. I’m the best you have._

Kylo stepped before you, turning his head slightly as he watched you lower your head. You weren’t sure if you did it out of respect or fear. He raised a gloved hand and turned to the Stormtroopers given them a gesture you can’t even begin to explain. Each filled out of the room, understanding an order the Commander didn’t need to vocalise. Leaving you alone with him.

You heard a _whoosh_ of air as the Commander presses either side of his mask, removing it with practiced elegance. You indulged in the features of his face; the soft slop of his nose, the honeyed light of his eyes and the soft vibrancy of his hair. You wonder how such beauty could stay contained.

_And how much he’s getting paid, because I cannot afford shampoo that good._

He waltzed around you, his eyes not removing themselves from your form. Stature was everything when commanding respect.You kept your hands behind your back and shoulders straight. Perfect posture for an Officer of the First Order.

“It’s funny…” he brushed a finger along the one slither of skin on you nape “…how your mind screams something different than your mouth. You’re hiding someone else below the surface aren’t you?”

“Commander, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Has my service to the First Order not been satisfactory?”

He brings his head to the corner of your neck and breaths slightly on the shell of your ear. You could not repress the shiver that overcomes you.

“Ever word so proper….like a Lieutenant…” you could feel every word on your neck, a brand on your skin “…but that voice I hear in your head, it tells me something else”

_He could hear me. He could always hear me. He knows every thought I had in that command room. My thoughts about his thighs, my thoughts now. Shit._

The Commander final walks around you to watch your face from up close. Without warning, he reaches a finger up to pull a strand of your hair out from your hat. Slowly, that finger traces down your cheek, drawing an indecent line to the plump of your bottom lip. He rests his knuckle there: insistent and probing.

Without any thought, your tongue comes out to brush the leather.

_Shit._

You fling your self away from his body. Your breathing was tight as you actively tried to avoid your eyes.

“I’m sorry Sir, I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t think”

Kylos’ eyes filled with a darkness. _That_ , you thought, _was either lust or anger._

He smirked, “No, you shouldn’t have”

Within seconds he grips your throat in one of his large hands; swallowing you neck with the ‘v’ of his thumb and finger. He threw you up against the wall with a resounding _slap._ It felt like something you had been waiting for. A dream and a nightmare rolled into one.

The Commander removes his hand from your throat to push his index finger past the guard of your lips. Penetrating your mouth with aggression. You didn’t have to think, you just acted. Your tongue dances underneath his finger, sucking passionately on its tip.

“You dirty whore…” he sighed, the leather of his glove punishing the back of your throat “…Do you do this for everyone? Do you, princess?”

He pushes the heat of his thigh in-between your legs, allowing you the slightest piece of reprieve. You feel like a puppet, moved around by his devices, only being allowed to chase your pleasure when he wants you too. Kylo pushes your pussy down onto his thigh with his free hand, allowing you to grind lightly and letting the seem of your trousers rub along your clit.

“My little fool…”.he breathed it on to your neck, letting his tongue lick the sweat on your nape “…How can you be my guard when all you think about is how you want to fuck me?”

You’re forced to turn your head when a bright pain splashes along your cheek, the Commander had slapped you. Yet, you feel your cunt clench while the pain seeps through your head. Fuck, you wanted him to slap you again. You were grinding an aggressive rhythm on his thigh, suddenly uncaring if anyone saw you. After all, you quite enjoy the idea of everyone knew you had the privilege to fuck the Commanders thigh.

A resounding slap echos of the walls when he hits you again, a fresh wave of cum oozing from your pussy and leaving a wet stain on your panties.

“Answer me Lieutenant!” he pushes the fingers to the back of your throat, shoving them in and out with a rapid pace “…Oh, you can’t”

You gag on his fingers and you feel saliva pooling out of your mouth and onto your uniform. You can’t help but think of the last time he saw your uniform dirty. Did he enjoy it? Did he want you because he saw how willing you could be? how much of a whore you could become? Kylo Rens official slut.

The fingers in your mouth suddenly halted, pulling out to rub saliva along your lips. The Commander tensed his thigh and you breathed out an airy groan. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you right here, push his cock in with such power that your legs shake from it.

“You won’t cum today” he stated.

_No, please no. I’ll do anything._

“Please, please Commander. I-i know what I did was wrong but please just..” You gave two harsh grinds on to his thigh feeling you clit pulse “…just a bit longer”

Kylo wrapped a tight hand into your hair, throwing your head harshly against the cold still.

“Do not argue with me girl”

He grinds the outline of his cock against your thigh, the only indication that this had any effect him at all. He grins into the corner of your neck before gripping your chin to turn your face toward him.

“After all…” he whispers “..We don’t cum at work do we?”

Slowly, he moves away from you. Which finally gave you space to gasp for air, shaking from the exhaustion and pain from being denied what your body needs the most.

“Be in the hanger in the morning..” He rubs your mouth with his finger before turning to leave “…We start work tomorrow”


	3. The Silencer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't want to warm Kylos dick in the TIE Silencer then this is not the fanfic for you.

You spent the next morning in a whirlwind of nervous energy. You ran around like a tornado, making sure that everything is perfect. The butterflies in your stomach were telling you that any mistake would lead to your ultimate demise; You tried to ignore the idea that they were reminding you that you almost orgasmed on the Commanders thigh yesterday.

Emphasis on _almost._ Last night you spent hours working yourself into completion thinking of his hands. The way he had held you like you were precious but moved you like you were a cheap whore. You’d wondered if he had done this often, stolen lieutenants from their work and screwed them at their desk.

_It doesn’t matter,_ you remind yourself. He is a _commander_ and you are just… _you._ He had called you a ‘little fool’…he was just….punishing you thats all. It wasn’t a reprimand you ever read about in any handbook but, maybe Ren just had his own way of doing things.

_Sure, that makes sense._

Your data pad made an incessant _beep_ from your desk and you frowned. If this was more spam mail from the dating sites Levi had signed you up for you swear to- you halted that thought when the senders name code came through. KR216. It was a message from the Commander.

_Lieutenant,_

_This is a list of what you must bring with you today. Forget anything and you will be reprimanded._

_Commander Ren_

You couldn’t help flush at the word ‘reprimanded’. Imagine, blushing at the idea of corporal punishment. Attached to the message was an itinerary of necessities which, as you opened, was two pages long.

_I need to bring casual clothes? For what?,_ you thought, _we’re obviously going somewhere and for quite a while._

The list contained items such as winter uniform and evening wear. Which meant, whatever you were doing on this job, it’s some undercover shit. Something that required that no one recognised you, something that was outside of First Order control. The messaged also showed a ships log, including you and the Commanders name on a flight out aboard the TIE Silencer.

You didn’t even know the thing had two seats.

You lean back into your bed, scrolling through the email. It’s only when you look closer you noticedhow the message was addressed to you on the CC.

_Lieutenant 5337 - Protection Detail._

You were Rens guard dog?

Grinning into your hand, you give a chuckle. The ultimate Kylo Ren needed a body guard. Sickeningly, it gave you a thrill knowing this must have royally pissed him off.

Maybe yesterday was just his variation of stress relief.

* * *

By the time you had packed everything on the list (despite wanting to leave something behind - just to see his reaction of course) Ren was hovering around the TIE Silencer. It was being fixed by a myriad of droids who were cleaning up what looked like lightsaber marks. You didn’t have to guess to know who made those.

The Commander stood as imposing as ever. His limbs were Goliath in comparison to yours and his eyes so devoid of anything resembling feeling. One of the Lieutenants called Ren ‘atrociously ugly’ when they first saw him without his trademark mask. You, however, never understood how anyone could be so blind. The alabaster skin, the way his face was dotted with freckles that you could only notice if you got up close to his face (though you were probably the only person to still be alive after being so close to him) the longline of his nose was that of old marble sculptures and his hair was so silky you wanted to bury your hands in it.

He already knew you were there. You could tell by the tension of his shoulders that showed how uncomfortable he was with being observed. Placing your bag down to signal your arrival, you walked up beside him.

“Sir” you said curtly.

“Lieutenant” he said with no more than a brief look to acknowledge your existence.

A brief rope of tension tightened in your heart. He was so unaffected by your entire existence while you feel like your world view had changed since he touched you. Did he not think about it all? Was it really just some sick punishment for yesterday? You had pretend to be so nonchalant about it all.

But seeing him now - it just pisses you off. _Jackass._

_“_ Can I ask what this mission entails…Commander?”

You added on the ‘ _commander_ ’ as an afterthought, the only thing you wanted to call him now started with ‘ _ass’_ and ended with ‘ _hole_ ’.

“We’re looking for a Resistance Assassin, a man, that the First Order has a bounty on…” he huffed as he watched droids work filler into a scratch on the Silencer “…that’s all you need to know”

“Who is this man?” you said.

The Commander started to observe his ship taking massive steps around it. You jogged to keep pace and honestly, you must look like child following him around. Even though he definitely acted like a child more that you. There was a rumour going around the Lieutenants quarters that he once destroyed his original TIE because it didn’t go fast enough and that the Silencer wasn’t a prototype - it was just a toy made for Ren so he had something to _play_ with. Rather than destroying everyone else's equipment.

The more you spoke with him the more you were starting to believe everything you’ve heard.

“His name is classified” Kylo said as he opened a control panel on the side of the Silencer. 

“Do I get to see the bounty for this man? At least get a glimpse of his face?”

“Classified” he hummed, not even gracing you with a look.

“Is there anything that isn’t classified Commander?” You snarked, you didn’t have time for this. Higher-ups hide things that are important and that is why people die. If Kylo Ren can’t trust you with even a slither of information then he can find another person to be his glorified babysitter.

“Maybe _Lieutenant..”_ The way he said Lieutenant was so obnoxiously snobby that your hands clenched into fists, “…You do your job as _protection detail_ not as interrogator”

“And maybe you should stop being such a dick!” You screamed.

The rage inside you has been boiling for some time now, twisted with this lust you felt. It was frustrating and just served to piss you off more.

All the working droids turned to face you. Somehow, despite the blank nature of their design, they still managed to look shocked by your outburst. One gave two nonsensical _beeps_ which you decided to interpret as ‘she’s fucked’. However, you were in too deep now to quit.

Kylo dismisses the droids with an aggravated look and they all roll their bodies out the doors.

“And what do you know about me Lieutenant?”

“I know everything I need to know about you”

“You do?” His look was unwavering and intent as his eyes drilled into you. You could feel a pull in your mind like something was trying to worm it’s way in. You could only think of one way to describe the Commander and it came to the front of your mind like water flowing to surface.

_You’re a sick sadist with anger management issues._

“Ah, you do” he gave a twisted grin, morphed somewhere between anger and amusement.

“i can’t help you find a man without knowing what he looks like” You gritted your teeth “did you bring me along to work miracles or to mock me?”

‘Who said you could help? You’re just here to keep Snoke happy”

“Of course…” you gave a rueful smile, “i’m your babysitter so that you don’t get told off by the person who actually has all the power!”

In your rage you pushed yourself up against the Commander, who was holding his fist clenched by his side. Despite his tense body, his eyes bore into yours with something akin to pride. No. It wasn’t pride it was sick enjoyment.

You shove your hand against his chest and Ren gave you an amused eyebrow.

“Does my anger bring you some sort of thrill?” You breathed, the space between your mouths minimal. _Sink your teeth in his lip,_ a dark part of your soul screamed - begging to unleash the rage.

You will not be humiliated by a man-child who breaks things when he doesn’t get his way.

He watched you, his breath mingling in the space between your mouths. The Commander was waiting for something and his eyes were searching for it in your face. You realised then how Stormtroopers have been killed for less insolence and you…you’ve pushed Ren (and belittled him half to nothing). Your head said _fuck him_ but your heart said _oh fuck._

_(even though that toddler deserves more than just a push and a few hurtful words)_

He could feel that he had exposed a chink in your armour and so could you. For no one had pushed you to shout before. The epitome of Lieutenant training and here you were - screaming at a Commander because he made you feel pissed off.

Whatever he’s looking for in your eyes he doesn’t find it. Instead, his face shuts down replacing this cocky interior with the stone-cold Commander you had first met.

“Always…” he frowns “…so prim and proper aren’t you?”

You freeze as his hand comes up to rest on your neck, pulling him flush against you with an aggressive force that makes your knees weak. He tucks his face into your neck, so much like that time at your desk that your rage is replaced by a deep clenching in your core.

“if you ever disrespect me in front of anyone, like you have today, I will rip off your clothes and fuck you while they watch just so they know that I have power over the girl they respect so much” His tone wasn’t angry like you expected - just powerful.

He bit into your earlobe before moving back to your lips.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Rather than give Ren the sick satisfaction of a reaction - you step back, creating a distance between you and the Commander. A Commander that definitely wants to fuck his subordinate. Isn’t there rules against that?

“Crystal” you whisper.

“Good” he tapped the Silencer, “Get in”

“What?” You had thought you were leaving in an hour.

“Are you hard of hearing and stupid Lieutenant?”He pushed your back with his palm and gave you an ‘ _are-you-fucking-dumb?’_ look. Honestly, you knew you’d probably pushed him too far today. Better just do what he says before you get yourself killed.

Ren moves his head in a harsh gesture that reminded you of a nervous tick. Although, by the way he brushes underneath your uniform when he pushes you up the walkway - he wasn’t nervous about anything.

Once he reaches the cockpit he sits in his chair, assuming the position of someone in charge. He spreads his legs and points between them. It wouldn’t take a genius to see where this was going.

“Is…” you flush under his glare “…is this a punishment? For mouthing off?”

He frowns.

“Number one, if this was a punishment I’d tell you. Number two, it doesn’t count as a punishment if you enjoy it now” he crooks a finger at you. An obvious hand command - like the ones you saw him use on the Stormtroopers.

Automatically, captured in his gaze, you step over his leg and kneel. Face toward his crotch. Like you were meant to be there. He gives you a nod and brushes your cheek lightly with the tip of his finger.

“You can figure out what to do now, can’t you Lieutenant?” His voice sounding more breathy than before.

Emboldened, You lay a palm on his knee, running your hand up the corded muscle hidden underneath his black attire. He holds your gaze, being surprisingly patient for a man used to getting what he wants. After all, he’s getting what he wants now isn’t he?

You bring two fingers up the imprint of his cock, the trousers straining under the pressure of his length. You knew he’d big - his hands were so large and you’re never blessed with something you cannot hold. He sighs - or breathes out what could have been a sigh- when you start to push against his crotch, rubbing in small circles with your palm.

He pushes a hand into your hair and gives it a light tug so that you look up at him.

“You had so much to say a minute ago Lieutenant…where’s that attitude gone?” He grinned “Instead you’re on your knees looking so desperate for my cock”

Like a puppet on a string - you go to release his dick from its confines when he throws your head back, the grasp on your hair causing blistering heat on your scalp.

His face had gone controlled when you looked up at him. His demeanour was facade; A controlled anger. There was something in him wanting to come out. Although, thats how he described you. Maybe there was something in you too.

“Will you beg for it Lieutenant?”

You didn’t need to beg, you just wanted his dick in your mouth now. You lift your hands again and he swats them away with his free hand.

“No…” he peered down at you “…i _need_ you to tell me you want it”

Was he…oh. He wanted you to tell him this was okay. You had enjoyed how powerless you felt when he pushed and pulled you. But, you still held all the power. One ‘no’ from you and he’d leave this sick game you're playing in the past.

Except, not one part of you wanted to say ‘no’.

“Please Commander, I want your dick in my mouth…” you sighed, the words coming out without control. You probably sounded like a desperate whore. Imagine if those Droids could hear you now.

You pulled against him to rub your cheek on his thigh.

“You should fuck my mouth, make me hold your cum in there…i’ve been so naughty” you only had a second to feel ashamed that any of that came out of your mouth (like a cheap sex phone line) when Ren released your hair and gestured to his trousers.

“Good, get to work…” he smirked “…Show me you’re good at something Lieutenant”

You pull him out of the confines of his trousers without warning. Needing something, wanting something. It was a new feeling for you, the girl who always knew how to do everything by the book.

You kitten lick the slit. If you’re going to play the slut you might as well make it something to remember, a slow torture to remind him of how you felt that day. Placing a kiss to his head, you place one hand to rub the space in-between his balls while the other grips the base of his massive cock.

Giving a good blowjob isn’t just about the movement, it’s about making it dirty and providing a show. Making sure that he wants to cum just by looking at you. You rub you chest in the space between his legs, making sure to draw his eyes down to the swell of your breast. The uniform couldn’t hide everything after-all.

Saliva pools out of your mouth leaving a wet stream down his dick. Rubbing the saliva with your hand you use it to ease your hand up and down Rens dick. Your grip was nice and tight, giving him a forceful pressure that could make a grown man cry.

Ren, on the other-hand, was watching you intently. His eyes perched on your face, a study of yourthoughts while you take his cock. The only indication that he was enjoying this (besides the hard on on your mouth) was the clench of his hand on the seat. His grip was drawing marks into the seat that you don’t think even a droid could fix.

This wasn’t going as good as it need to.

You were better than this.

Moaning, you start to sink the inches into your throat. The humming vibrating along the Commanders cock like a twinged harp string. His mouth released a low tenor groan which made your pussy pulse with appreciation.

“Good girl…” he groaned, a hand threading through your tendrils once again “…Aren’t you a quick study? You were always top of your class. Take more”

You eagerly obey - pushing his cock into your throat like it was second nature. Your eyes stung from the pressure, a single tear falling down your face. Ren wiped the tear with a gloved thumb before placing it in is mouth.

_Sick sadist._

Your movements turned sloppy, urged on by the Commanders grunts of pleasure. His grip tightened on your hair when you speed up, laying your tongue on the underside of his cock.Your dirty sucking sounds were echoing of the TIE until all you can hear is the slick sound of his dick fucking your throat.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rest on your throat.

He was feeling it. The way his cock felt in you.

You were sopping wet and he was moving in your throat like you were made for this

You hallowed your cheeks, taking his dick in harsh aggressive thrusts. Hopefully, this image would be imbedded on his mind like a brand. A reminder that no one could take him so perfectly. You ears catch an abhorred sigh and ‘ _oh fuck’_ before he came down your throat. Filling your mouth so much that it spills out the corner of your lips.

“That’s good Princess, just like that” he holds your cheek while he fucks the cum into your willing mouth.

When you go to pull away he hold you tight, pushing your face against his crotch.

“Stay. Keep it in your mouth” he sighs, automatically brushing your hair with slowly strokes.

He left his dick in your mouth until it had gone soft and then another five minutes after that. When some of his cum slides out of your mouth he pushes it back in with his finger. When he seems content, he pulls you up, looking over your throat with a narrow eye.

The Commander makes himself decent while watching you still perched on the floor.

“Commander. I-“ you didn’t even know what you were going to say.

“Kylo” he said “When we do _this -_ it’s Kylo”

“And what will you call me?”

He smirks, reaching to brush a hair out of your face

“Now, that depends on how good you are”


	4. Vandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mood board this chapter was based on my thought process while creating the Reader. I wanted someone soft and sassy but also dedicated to her work ('work' being the name of Kylos dick) 
> 
> The best way to contact me is through my Tumblr -https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22
> 
> I'm also desperately looking for an artist to create cover art for this fic, so if anyone is interested please hit my Tumblr up! 
> 
> (This was also a particularly long chapter that - once again- I'm posting on a Wednesday instead of a Thursday)

Kylo Ren flies like a maniac.

This is what you realize two minutes into your journey.

You had strapped yourself into a chair right at the back, tucked in an angle that allows you to see the Commanders control pad. You had also strapped your bag down. It would be a risk to leave it unstrapped while Kylo rolls the TIE Silencer like its sliding over a wave. After the bag hit you in the head once you decided to not push your luck.

He’d thrown you a datapad a few minutes into the flight. It explained your flight course and you studied it with a Lieutenants eye. It was time for you to work rather than think about the Commander's dick in your throat. 

_yep, working…lets work and stuff._

The data explained landing in Vandor where you’ll swap the TIE for something more….non-first-order. Then transfer to Cantonica under different identities. There, you’ll meet with a First Order collaborator to discuss the recent location of your ‘mystery man’. You assumed he’s edited this information before giving it to you - considering it seemed to be missing the _classified_ information.

An indigent sigh leaves your lips, “’ i _t’s classified, Lieutenant’...”_ You mock his tone under your breath. _“…_ maybe I should have made my body classified you man whore”

“Something wrong Lieutenant?” Kylo says, the reflection of his eyes bouncing from the window and on to your face.

“No…” you resist the urge to poke your tongue out “…everything is just _peachy_ Sir”

* * *

You’d never been to Vandor. Or many planets..

Seeing it out of the cockpits window was like a religious experience, you didn’t even try to hide the gasp that wormed its way out of your mouth. It was an expanse of white, sharp lines and dark edges with mountains that rose out of the ground like shards of glass. It had a presence that was sinister while - in a dichotomous fashion - felt so pure. Views like this were usually reserved for postcards or art, not your unworthy eyes.

You had risen from your seat before you even realized you had undone your belt.

Your knuckle brushes the window glass feeling the cold. If you closed your eyes you could imagine what snow must feel like. You knew it was cold too, maybe it crumbled like sand, or was it solid like metal? Either way, you wanted to put your hands in it. Just for a second. Just a little momentary lapse where you could do something for you and not the First Order.

Although, you were doing that a lot lately.

When you turn to the man in question he was looking out of the window. Intent and unbothered.

You could swear he had been watching you.

Kylo lands the TIE at the top of a ridge. It was obscured by a small hill but looked down upon the city built into the cliffs. Each level of metal shining in the midday sun. Vandor was the epitome of tech ruining the sublime. As fantastical as building cities into mountains was, it didn’t hold the same awe of the crisp earth you saw from the ship.

Rustling in your bag, you pull out a white puffer jacket. The one piece of clothing that is not covered in First Order insignia and pulled it over your arms. You grab your bag in your hand and hover by the closed door. So close to your first taste of winter.

Kylo stood, leaning against the back of his chair. The only thing he offers is a raise of an eyebrow.

So you press the button near to the door and release the airlock.

The first thing you feel is the brisk air. It burns as it hit your cheeks, blistering your face with fresh air. The next thing you feel; Elation. The feeling that comes with absolute freedom. In a moment you run down the metal plank into a sea of ice. Your knees buckle on the cold ground, letting the snow sink into your uniform trousers.

It takes no thought to push your hands into the snow.

_oh, it’s soft._

A moment passes with you pulling up the snow and patting it back into the ground. You let it fall through your fingers like tiny gems. If only you could take some of it home. Levi would love to see this.

You stand when you hear the tap of shoes on metal. Trying to not embarrass yourself further, you stand to attention at the base of the ship. At least, you try too. That was before you see the heinous object he’s carrying.

You gave an exaggerated huff just so he would pay you attention, “You cannot bring that with you” you point at the offensive looking mask? Helmet? Waste of money?

He gave you a look that was pure filth and not in the good way. “Why not?"

“Well I don’t know Kylo-“ you said sarcastically.

“Commander” he reminded.

“-Maybe someone might look at the gigantic black helmet”

“-my head isn’t _gigantic_ ”

“-and think ‘ _hey, does that remind you of someone that also has a black helmet like.. oh I don’t know…. Kylo Ren!’_ You wanted to be subtle and in my _professional opinion_ that is the least subtle thing I have ever seen” you gesture between him and the helmet. Back and forth and back and forth.

He gripped the front of his helmet in an iron grip, his eyes jumping between it and the TIE. Looking closer you could see that his lips were slightly puckered.

This is some weird version of separation anxiety if you ever saw it.

“Are you…are you pouting right now?” You sighed, suddenly, it felt as though this entire mission was above your pay grade. How much _were_ baby sitters getting paid nowadays anyway? Because you’re thinking about asking for a raise after this.

_It’s funny,_ you think _, you were asking for this job two days ago._

The Commander must have heard that thought like it was clear water hitting a stream - his face brightened as much as the man let it. “Weren’t you in awe of me a few days ago?”

You gave a dismissive shrug, “…Don’t remember”

“Ah, but I do”he smirked wearing a smug smile. You knew he was remembering your first meeting. The way you had imagined him taking you, how you had enjoyed the idea of controlling you, how you wanted to please him, and prove that you would be great at being _his_.

“I wonder if you remember..” He states, bringing his finger to your lips “…that I could kill you for speaking to me the way you do”

He throws his helmet into the TIE - his eyes never moving from yours. You cringe at the sound of metal on metal, and the fact that it’s _you_ who’ll have to deal with the dent that definitely left in the TIEs floor.

You move your head back, not letting his fingers linger too long.

“I remember…” you shuffle your bag onto your shoulder, shivering as snow trickles into your boots “…i just don’t think it would benefit you to kill me. Snoke-“

Shutters come down in his eyes, a blankness covering his soul from view that makes your mouth close. Snoke obviously wasn’t his favorite conversation topic. Conversation wasn’t his favorite thing either.

The Commander balls his hands at his size before succumbing to the brisk chill of the mountains and wrapping his arms around his torso. He foregoes wearing the cape during the mission. A blessing for the city dwellers. If they saw a man in black - in a fucking cape- stalking down the mountainside looking like _that,_ you’re pretty sure they’d call a priest to exorcise the demon within him.

And you were just starting to enjoy this demon.

Ren grabbed a black bag from the TIE, one far bigger than yours. He is bigger than you, your mind supplied, probably needs a lot more space to fit more material. To cover that muscular, hulking- 

_No._

_This is work, not a cheap porno. Keep it together._

You tried not to think that it would be a porno you’d watch.

Kylo took a grey cube from his pocket. First Order tech - you could recognize that anywhere. It flipped in his palm and with a touch of his fingers cloaking tech embodied the ship. To a trained eye: they could see the shimmer on the outer edges signaling a stealth shield. To a layman: it would just be another bundle of snow on an ice planet.

He takes two steps down the edge of the hill before looking back at you.

“Keep up Lieutenant”

His pace was fast and his steps were large. No matter how much you try to keep up with him you were always a few paces behind. The one time you had tried to run, you fell and slapped your wrist on a block of ice. He’d paused then. Allowing a few breaths for you to stand.

He didn’t help you stand - asshole.

He sets a brutal pace, slipping over the rough earth like it’s easy. For him, things just seem to come easy.

_You cum easy._

_Fucking hell._

The Commander led you down the mountain, in and out of rock formations until you hit the bottom which was covered in a large metal plate. Vandors' buildings were massive metal formations, worming up the mountains via large pipe-like constructions.

“Fort Ypso” Kylo hummed. “That's what the city’s called….ugly place”

There is a hotel up an incline of steep steps which has you clinging to the banister in a death grip. One slip and you were a bantha-butter pancake and you planned only planned to die _la petite mort_ in the future.

When you enter the hotel you watch the lights flicker. The mountain range was not covered in pylons or electricity cable, so you assume most power was generated underground and brought up through the mountain. Levi would have a fucking field day trying to work this out. Oh shit, you were going to have tell him you _did_ suck Kylo Rens dick. Fuck, he’ll have more than a field day over that. He’ll probably pull out a tape measure and ask you to say ‘stop’.

Kylo had obviously got a room. A women with green skin and long, spindly, antennae gives him a key with a smile that was more lust than hospitality.

He throws you a key that fumbles out of your grip for a few seconds.

“We’ll stay here tonight…” he grabs your bag out of your injured hand “…we’ll find a ship in the morning”

The hotel room was stark.

There was a large window, overlooking the mountain range bellow - If you were scared of heights it would be hard to breathe. There was a large double bed covered in a thick animal pelt and piled high with pillows; in the corner sat a single chair, caressed with green velvet. Everything else was plain furniture and storage space. Kylo had looked into the bathroom for a second before scoffing.

His standards _are_ impeccably high.

“Get changed” he huffed, throwing your bag onto the bed.

“Now?”

“No, yesterday” he snipped, sinking into the velvet of armchair. Sarcastic motherfucker. “I’m disregarding of your uniform. No evidence of the First Order can be on us.”

Your hands still, brushing the charcoal of your dress coat. A symbol of First Order power. A symbol of the only home you’ve ever known.

It’s not like he would understand it. He could keep his black outfit and no one would be wiser.

This was the uniform you graduated in. The uniform you shared your first kiss in. What you wore when you first looked around and thought _‘maybe I belong somewhere, maybe I’m worth something’._ It had been the first thing you wore that was _yours._ It didn’t come from trash bags or given by people who felt sorry for you. It was yours. Something you could truly own.

It's stripping your identity away. And you’re not sure who’s underneath.

You look toward Kylo, with his legs spread and head tipped back against the soft plush of the chair. “Are you just going to sit there?”

He rolls his head to the side, lolling it against the age of the chair. His eyes draw an indecent line down your covered form.

“You can suck my dick-“ the edge to his tone made you flush with warmth “-but undressing in front of me is where you draw the line?”

Gritting your teeth you try to quell your traitorous body.

Despite your _‘sexual escapades_ ’ (if they can be called that) this would be the first time you undressed in front of him and, for some reason, it made you feel different. Kylo gave you a wanting look: somewhere between lustful and bored which you couldn’t quite place. He made you feel that way a lot - like you’re stuck in limbo. Your thoughts raced - you had a scar on your back from a training accident and burn marks from near misses with blasters- you didn’t want to see that look on the face. The one that screamed ‘disappointment’.

You turn to the wall offering yourself -at least -the semblance of privacy.

His piercing glare was penetrating the skin of your back when you moved the outer coat off your shoulder. You swallowed, partially paralyzed by the weight of a look that you couldn’t see. You hovered with your jacket on your arms, the criss-cross back of your top outline the soft expanse of your back and barring your wounds to a man who wanted to give you more.

Getting your top off was far less delicate. It was designed to be tight and bind your chest which made it a lot easier on the boobs during physical activities. However, you felt stupid trying to pull the material up your shoulders as it stuck to the sweat sliding down your back. By the time you had the material over your head, you were flushed from exertion.

A blush spiraled up your face when you realized you could still feel his eyes. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine him running his fingers over the expanse of your skin. Your traitorous mind reminded you that you wanted him to touch you. It made you feel good that you could make him want you. Physically you knew you weren’t _bad_ but your sexual experiences were limited to groping in the dark, a few handjobs after training and it wasn’t like you ever got an orgasm out of it.

But Kylo wanted you. He wanted to fuck you because he wanted to fuck you. And none of it had been romps with the lights off.

It has been….something.

Something you couldn’t really name.

Maybe you didn’t know its name. But - it was _something_.

You kicked off the standard issues boots before hesitating at the waist of your trousers.Your thumb brushed the soft expanse of your stomach, minutely touching the zipper.

“Take them off” his voice sounded distant, deep. It felt like you were at the bottom of the ocean, his voice distorted in the waves. With how wet he made you it didn’t seem far from the truth.

At a borderline excruciatingly slow pace, you bring the zipper down.

You decide, then and there, that one of the worst things about Kylo Ren Is that he can make himself so silent. You had half your ass on display for him and you couldn’t even hear him take a breath. No sigh of lust, not a huff of indignation. Just the sound of the zipper.

When all your clothes besides your underwear (just a pair of basic black cotton panties) were off you folded it diligently. The First Order had certain standards and that included ensuring your uniform was meticulously folded every night. You held the folded clothes against your chest, not daring to turn around.

You don’t think you could bare letting the Commander stare at your nipples.

For once, you feel his touch before you sense his presence. The ringing in your ears stopping you from deciphering his steps. A gloved finger runs a delicate line up your back and you almost wish for skin on skin. The feel of the glove was sexy but the _wanting_ \- the pure, unrestricted _wanting_ \- consuming you were desperate for his thick, calloused fingers all over you. His hair brushes your ear when he leans down to fit his head in the crook of your neck.

“See….” He brings his hand down your collarbone, down the curve of your breast until he grabs you folded clothing. His voice a sexy low drawl “…that wasn’t so hard”

His crotch against you ass made it clear that - it was in fact - _very hard_.

Silk laid in your hands. He had swapped your uniform for the soft nightdress you kept in your bag. It was one of the few things you owned that was particularly pretty; spaghetti straps and peach-toned fabric. You pulled it over your head, not wanting to be naked any more than you have too.

After all, you said you would work. No more falling into Rens grasp.

He pressed his nose into your neck - only for a second- and your skin breaks out in shivers.

_Resist._

He pulls the straps up your shoulders dipping his thumb along your breast.

_Resist._

He brushes his lips along the shell of your ear.

_Resist for fuck's sake._

As soon as you lean into his touch he’s gone. Throwing your uniform (which is no longer beautifully folded) into his bag and sitting back into his chair. Kylo looked overly serene for a man who made you shudder with repressed desire. It was interesting. Levi had watched Kylo break a chair in half with his bare hands and throw his helmet through a wall but, at this moment, he looked relaxed. Or as relaxed as a Commander of a massive military power can be.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re calmer”

“What?” He scoffed.

“When you’re with me, you seem…” your throat contracts around the words. How were you supposed to tell him how this light seems to permeate him. How he’s not Snoke's apprentice, or a Commander or a complete monster. He’s just _him_. “You seem….controlled?”

“Maybe I just feel in control when I’m around you” you watched him, expecting his eyes to be dancing with mirth but he just relaxed into the chair watching the snowfall outside. It wasn’t hard to understand his meaning - you were a break from orders and planning- a reprieve from anger. He could control it with you. With sex - Of course.

All these questions you had were hovering so close to the tip of your mouth: _Why me? Can you read everyone's mind? Do you do this with lots of girls? Why did you touch me on that day? Are we allowed to do this? What even is ‘this’?_

“That’s a lot of questions,” he said, running a hand under his chin. You really had to remember the mind-reading thing.

“Will you give me any answers?”

He turned to face you, looking so princely in the moonlight that it hurt to look at. The bags under his eyes were dark and distinct, he seemed to draw himself in, repressing into his skin. _He was mentally tired_ , you thought, _what was the first order doing to him?_

_“_ Stop being so….so fucking loud and go to bed!” He shouted, walking towards until you started to walk backward. Ever one step he took you took one back. One step forward - one step back. Your knees buckled when they hit the plush of the bed and your thighs hit the bedding with a soft _thump_.

He pushes his hand against your forehead “Stay”.

“Stay?”

“Stay!” He said, laced with power. Was this an order from the Commander or from your…whatever his is.

“But-“ you moved on to your side, the string of your top falling off your shoulder “Where will you sle-“

He’d shut the door before you could even finish your sentence.

_Petulant man baby_

You had thought that you were slightly scared of Kylo Rens power, but, maybe he was scared of yours too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought i would add outfit inspiration throughout the chapters as well   
>  The Nightdress


	5. A little Freight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Here is my[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22))
> 
> This chapter was really hard to write but the nice comments I received made my days a little brighter. I never like my writing, so one nice comment really makes me emotional. Thank you again.

You dreamt of water.

The water felt fresh, suspending you between the rocky surface and light you couldn’t reach. You had this dream since childhood. The water was never cold, no light would grave your features, and there would be no one besides you.

You were so used to this that you didn’t bother trying to reach the surface: you’d never make it - you never did.

The water will seep through your nose, push past your mouth, and leave you to drown.

Unfortunately, you can’t control your panic in dreams.

When the water overflows your mouth you start to claw at your mouth. A serpent-like a wave seems to wrap itself around your throat, dragging its way up to your neck, and into your nose. You start to kick now, your feet making useless contractions against an invisible current.

_Come back._

You awoke with a start - taking deep, heavy breaths. Your chest feels tight like your lungs had been pushed, strangled by an unknown pressure.

_But you didn’t. It was a dream._ You tell yourself this, through a haze of lightheadedness, your hands scrunched into your nightdress so tight that a seam pulls. When you look up he’s there. Sitting in the chair. He had must have come back later in the night, his body now folded in the chair, dozing at an angle that will leave a crick in his neck. Long limbs spayed out in every direction. Like a Loth-cat trying to fit in a small space; unaware of his size.

You run your eyes over his legs. So astronomically long and his thighs so strong. Well, you knew how his thighs felt. When you look up his eyes are open.

And in the low light - his eyes meet yours.

He rolls his neck side to side before relaxing into the chair. “You’re breathing heavily”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed over the sound of me gasping for breath-” you’d didn’t want to sound snarky, he just had a way of bringing that out in you “-Did I raise you from your sleep Commander? I wouldn’t want to be a distraction” you sassed.

“It would be a welcome one…” he stretches, his shirt moving slightly, allowing you to see a glimmer of abs. “…Nightmares?”

You bed sheets have been kicked off the bed, you notice them out the corner of your eye and let the silence speak for itself.

“Do you want a distraction?” The heat of his glare telling you exactly what type of _distraction_ he meant.

You huff, “I don’t think orgasms are a cure for nightmares”

“No-“ he comes to stand at the end of the bed, stroking your ankle with his fingertips “-but they used to be a cure for hysteria…and you are looking rather hysterical” he pulls your foot up to his shoulder, his tall form offering a stretch down your thigh 

“Is that your professional opinion _Doctor_? Should the medbay crew be worried about their jobs?” You almost wince at your breathy tone.

The way he managed to steal your breath every time - it still shocked you.

He turns his head, his lips pressing into your ankles, watching your face with the rapt attention of an artist.

“Touch yourself,” he said it like it was on the edge of a sigh.

“I’m sorry?”

“Apology accepted” he runs an experimental fingernail along your inner thigh“Touch yourself”

You swallow, “….You want to watch me?”

“Would you rather I was blindfolded?” He brings his hand up, sliding along and pulling up the material of your nightdress. You didn’t stop him.“I don’t think we’re at that stage yet”

“Yet?”

“Are you going to make me wait?” His voice murmured against your foot.

As much as you protest you were never going to refuse. He knew you were never going to refuse.

You slip your index finger into your mouth, trying to make it sexy as possible, running your tongue along the bottom. Before dragging it down your sternum.

If he wants a show, you’ll give him a show.

You drag a finger up your lips. The wetness gathered on your fingertips, an embarrassing reminder of how quickly he can turn you on, as you run it up to your clit.

“Slowly” he breathes to word into the darkness, a warm crack in the silent evening.

A gasp leaves your mouth, so close to a moan that you slam your lips shut.

“No, be loud-” his face watching your fingers like they worthy of worship “-Show me how much you like it”

You rub your index finger in a small circle, you clit red and swollen from a pure mixture of lust and excitement, the moan that's ripped out of you is so close to a scream that you bite into your lip.

“Put a finger in-” One of his hand running down your inner thigh, so close, that if he moved slightly you’d have him where you wanted him. You rush to obey before he grabs your hand, slowing its path. “Slowly. I won’t remind you again”

You push in one finger. _Yes_ , you thought _this is what I need._

“So mouthy until I get you like this” he fingers tapping a taboo on your leg, while your fingers push a steady rhythm inside yourself. You let you thumb rub against your clit and he vocally groans. “So filthy, aren’t you?”

His words, his words were filthy. Drawing you closer to completion with his every syllable.

“Yes,” you exhale on a moan.

He grazes his teeth along your thigh, “Yes what?”

“Yes Commander”

You assume that's right because then he’s smiling. Smiling before he sinks his teeth into your thigh, sucking with reckless abandon and causing you to groan and arch into his touch. He pulls away to watch the mark his bitten into your skin, before peppering your calve with kisses.

“Have I been cruel, Princess?” He sighed into the skin of your ankle, placing featherlight kisses across the bone. The way he says _‘princess’_ had a familiar heat seeping between your legs. “…I’ve taken so much. But I haven’t given you what you want have I? Have you done this before thinking of me? Fucked your pretty cunt….” He pushes his teeth into the soft skin of your calf “…and wondered if I’d enjoy watching you”

Your nightdress had slipped off your right shoulder, exposing one breast to his honeyed eyes. It should have felt awkward or embarrassing, but Kylo was looking at you like you were a lake in an expanse of desert.

And he was _parched_.

He tightens the grip on your leg and pulls you to the edge of the bed.

No matter your size or height, Kylo towering over you could make anyone feel incredibly small. People said the dark side was tempting but this had crossed over into an addiction. His massive hand wrapped around your thigh felt like a sin that you couldn’t purge.

_I want to be baptised in this feeling_

He watches you fuck yourself with reckless abandon, succumbing to a rhythm you have danced before. You know how to make it last, to truly draw it out in a long spiel of pleasure. But the watches the way you curl inwards, his eyes taking in the slack off your mouth and the way your cunt _pulses_ against your fingers-

“Cum”

-the feel the wave hit you, your back arching off the bed and a long groan seeping out your chest. You bask in that warm, erotic feeling. Your body still shaking with resolved pleasure.

Your triumph fades into dread because with one look, he can make you feel like you did everything he wanted too. He can play you like a marionette, and you’d so enraptured by the experience, that you wouldn’t notice him pulling the strings.

The strings were cut now.

You lay, limbs sated and trembling, on the bed. Your breathing was harsh but he looked upon you as though he was sated, his eyes darkened by need, his grip on you thigh loosening so he can run his hands up and down your leg.

“From now on…” he rubs the red mark with his hand,“….you only do this with my permission”

“I can do whatever I want-“ you pull the nightdress back onto your shoulder “-with or without your permission”

He grabs your chin, his grip hot and heavy, pulling you lightly towards his face.

“but after a while Lieutenant” he put his lips towards your, mimicking a kiss “…you won’t want to”

* * *

No one could say the Commander wasn’t a great actor.

Especially since he spends the morning pretending nothing happened.

He uses the fresher to change, still seeming the care about decency; Ironic considering he has seen you almost naked. You expected his normal clothes to be a myriad of black on black, maybe some red if he was particularly fashionable that day, but what he walked out in made your day so much better.

The jacket - oh the jacket - was the worst thing you had ever seen the Commander wear.

That jacket - an affront to clothing everywhere- pierces your eyes and you feel the corners of your lips turn up.

“Wow”

He gives you a look cross between acceptance and disgust “Say it”

“Your jacket is fucking ugly”

He sighs, “We’re not here to be the height of fashion”

“If there is a _height_ of fashion, then that is a flat plain of dry land-“

“Lieutenant”

“- a deep hole-like abyss”

“Lieutenant,” he said it like a warning. But it had _pockets_. Bright blue pockets.

“-An elevator that only goes down”

“You’ve made your point” He was tired of this conversation already.

The fact that he looked so uncomfortable in it made it ten times better. Kylo in a cape _strutted_ , Kylo in a puffy jacket _shuffled_. It almost didn’t look like it was his jacket. Slightly too big, worn, torn, and battered by the wind - every step looked like he was trying to figure out a new body; one that didn’t have flouncy capes. 

He gestures his head to fresher, “Go. Then we can eat at the cafe”

His eyes follow you as you waddle into the fresher like a sex drunk porg.

Littered with bruises, your leg looks reddened and you point at your reflection in the mirror.

“Dumb whore-” you say to her “-you stupid, dumbass”

You’d bought only sports bras with you - a welcome reprieve from uncomfortable wires and contraptions- and put one on before covering it which a wrap top. A soft, knitted brown thing you bought with the last of your recent credits. You had a pair of black shorts, constructed with a blaster sheath in the side, and a green linen skit. Was it fashionable? no. Would it ensure that you could run if the situation called for it? Probably not - you didn’t really run.

When you leave the fresher his eyes widen - an unconscious movement that he tries to control.

His eyes widened tracking the movement of your top. “You look like…” he said, his face as shocked as you’ve ever seen it.

“Like?” You pushed.

He shook his head. As if he could remove the thought by dislodging it from his brain.

“Nothing” he sighs, grabbing both your bags “let's eat”

The cafe was a few steps down from the hotel, a surprisingly scary endeavor, much more so than walking up steps. The place was littered with wooden tables, the paint overly worn, and a scattering of families sitting down for a meal.

The cafe didn’t serve much. Food supplies were probably low, with a lack of fertile green lands and a rocky outreach it was not made for farming. Even flying supplies in would require a well-versed pilot. You knew there was Imperial conveyex train, further up the ridge, but that cargo won’t grace the villager's doors.

The First Order only benefits the First Order.

The cafe, however, did serve breakfast hotcakes.

You order two for yourself, on Kylos credits, while he got a bland bowl of porridge.

_I should be worried about why he chose to have sex with me,_ you thought, _with taste like that._

You cover your hotcakes in sugar, leaving a mountain of it on your plate, and inhale them in less than ten minutes. When you finally resurface to breathe, a woman on the other side of the room is watching you with abstract horror.

You give her a cheek smile, mouth still full of hotcake, and she turns away.

Kylo eats like he’s being forced to. One mouth full after the other without any joy gracing his features. You eat in companionable silence, with the only sounds being the clink of glasses and idle customer chatter, until he places his spoon in his bowl and just watches you move sugar around your plate.

“Are you going to lick the plate too?” When you move your face down to do just that, his lips turn up “Scavenger”

He winces after that comes out of his mouth. His joy seeming to dissolve and flow out of him.

As much as you pretend to ignore it, the tension between you was still thick from last night, clogging any useful brain cells you had left. Kylo being in a bad mood wasn’t going to make anything easier but ignoring it was going to give you a headache.

“Okay” you sit straight, shuffling into a pose that feels more militant - more like a Lieutenant. “We are going to make rules-” you gesture between the two of you “-about this”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “About our strictly professional relationship?”

“Don’t be coy” you scoff.

There was no relationship further from being professional. But it needed to be, you had to finally draw the line. Sure, everything had been fun, and sure, you wanted more - but you were a Lieutenant. Kylo didn’t seem particularly keen on keeping it professional (the scene on the finalizer was just the tip of the iceberg) so you had to step in and step up.

“Rule number one - no more using your powers to look inside my head.” You draw a single line in the sugar on your plate. “Its invasive and…rude,” you say, licking the sugar of your finger. The Commander's face remains unreadable while he roams the plains of your face.

He sighs, “Fine”.

His hand lashes out to grab your finger, pulling it away from your lips. He pulls it towards himself. The light, soft touch a faraway dream compared to how he was last night. You swear you weren’t going to let it happen, but when he places your finger on his lips all resistance flows out of you.

Oh.

_Oh._

Kylo sucks your finger down to the hilt. His eyes are blistering and his deviancy is a silken whisper in your ears. You didn’t intend to be played during this mission, but he knows exactly which chords to hit.

He brings your finger out of his mouth (a blessing for your beating heart) and uses it to draw another line in your sugar.

“Rule number two….” He hums, a sound straight from his chest.

At this moment, you finally remember that you are in _public and_ Kylo Ren had just sucked on your finger like an insatiable lover. “…stop thinking thoughts about me that you’d rather I wouldn’t hear”

You scoff, “That's ridiculous”. No one can control their thoughts like that.

“That’s life”

“Fine” not thinking about the Commanders dicks shouldn’t be hard.

_Ha, hard._

Okay - starting now.

You draw another line in your glucose tally chart.

“Rule number three….No..” if you were honest, you weren’t expecting to get to three rules, let alone have any of them agreed to. Kylo seems to know this. He places his hands, crossed, under his chin, and watches your mouth intently. Whether he wants it to stop moving or keep going, you can’t tell, but it’s sure as hell making you feel _some way_. “….No looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” He brushes a piece of hair out of his face.

“That…” you tap your fingers together before waving them around his face “…with your” you animatedly make gestures in front of him, there’s no way to explain someone's face without being flirty or mean, and Kylo seems to enjoy both sides of that coin. “…face”

“Real descriptive”

The next words out of your mouth may have come out bitter, “Rule number four. No more sex”.

Kylos mood seems to go from bad to worse.

He gives you a stormy look, full of lighting and lust. “Oh?” He places his left hand under the table, brushing along your knee. You jump as plan blooms over your thigh, it takes an unnaturally long amount of time to realise he was pushing his fingers into your bruise; the bruise he left on you last night. You shudder out a breath when he drags his nails along it.

“It’s not professional” he grabs your inner thigh under the table. A sharp pull has your torso hitting the table, the cutlery scattering. “and-um…” If it’s dirty when rubs your thigh in his palm, then its utterly _filthy_ when he pinches the soft skin right at the crux hip. “it’s…” he runs his palm over the crotch of your shorts and you slam your thighs shut, holding his hand stationary “…an abuse of power”

He runs an experimental finger up and down, “And you seem to be finding my ‘ _abuse of power_ ’ so awful”.

You reach under the table to clamp his hand in a vice grip. He smirks, “What a saint”.

“There are rules”

He drags his nail against you bruise again, before returning his hand to his side of the table, “You’re all for rules but will discuss sex at the breakfast table with your superior”.

“Please…” this man is really pushing it “…You’re not the epitome of manners”

“Oh, and you were so respectful and proper when you fucked yourself in front of your Commander” he sneers.

“Asshole” you bite.

“Hypocrite” he sneers back.

“Um-” a young waitress looks down at you. Sweet and small and far too young to be overhearing this conversation. “People are complaining about the noise Sir” her smiles pronounces her dimples.

Kylo doesn’t move his eyes from yours, “Maybe the people who have a problem should come and say it to my face instead of sending a child’’ his voice was loud enough that a few customers turn to look. One lady angles her child away from you.

“Yes Sir, sure but…” she holds her next words, obviously processing them “The table has no table cloth over it” she turns to look at your face then the table, red brushing her cheeks.

_Oh god. Oh no._

The Commander scoffs, “I don’t see how-“

“Pay the women Kylo and let’s leave before any more exhibitionist urges get us insulted in a family cafe” This is not your day, not your week, and probably not your year. The waitress seems to giggle at this but her face is pinched. She probably does not get paid enough for this.

Kylo fished in his pockets before producing some credit chips.

“Oh,” the waitress soothed her skirt “We don’t take cred-“ Kylo looks at her “We take credits, it’s fine. I’ll be back with your bill”

You give him a dirty look, “you better give her a tip”

His eyes alight with mirth, “she should be paying me to watch”

Despite your own embarrassment, that made you laugh.

You watch the sun come over the ridge while the waitress places your bill on the table. It’s warmth placing a soothing feeling your face, the light caressing your eyelids.

_Seeing the sun. That's new._

But that's when you feel it.

It was like the feeling of the river. An overwhelming rush that prickled its way through your body, seeping into your pores, and pulling out the feeling of _wrongness_. Sharp feeling ripples through your spine before setting at the core of your back.

The instinct to turn pulls at your ear and you face the women from earlier.

She has her ear to the cafe's phones. Phones are rare, hard to come by, but some popular places will have one - for emergency's sake. You watch her, her anger seeming to dissipate through the phone.

Then she looks at you: your eyes meet.

That feeling was no longer a river. It was an ocean, a riptide, pulling you under.

You kick Kylo under the table, “We need to leave”.

The Commander was watching you, his back hunched, teeth grinding. He felt it too.

He leans down with slow, controlled movements, gripping his bag. You are quick to copy. If you have to run you’re going to take your clothes at least. Not having clothing would just give Kylo an opportunity.

He throws you a weighted look, “You feel it too?”

“Call it a hunch”

He stands up, slowly, his muscled coiled like he could spring at a moment's notice.

“Walk - don’t run” he pushes you towards the exits, a steady hand on your back “…When you get to the entrance, run down the stairs. There’s a hanger underneath the city full of ships.” His words ghosting a hot breath against your neck “We’re going to steal one. Tell me you have a weapon”

“I have Bartholomew”You let him lean over you to open the door. His weight against your back.

“Who?”

You pull out your white hold-out blaster from the side of your shorts.

“My gun.” You wave it as a mockery “Bartholomew”

He gives you a look and opens his mouth-

A blaster shot hits the side of the door. The heat prickling your cheek.

Okay, so the lady wasn’t looking at you because you eat weird. Duly noted.

Her scream of ‘ _first order scum!”_ gets lost in the wind when Kylo starts pulling down the steps. His hand keeping a painful grip on your arm. His body shoving forward at a blistering pace, your legs trying the best to keep up.

Your foot clips on a rock on the hanger entrance and he drags you up like your a sack of potatoes.

“Stay on your feet Lieutenant” he pulls you against the hanger a door and rips your gun out of your hands. He covers your body, before aiming two shots are you assailant. He doesn’t even give you enough time to see her body hit the steps.

The hanger is full of cargo ships. Some small personal ship and a few freighters.

You pull him behind a cargo ship.

“We need something fast” you take a deep breath, “we don’t need guns right now. A freighter perhaps? A light freighter has decent speed and can be modified if we need it later”

He gives a considering look, “You know your stuff”

With a moment of false courage - you wink, “First in my class”

“I bet”

A few shots ring out from the rafters and he grips you tight against the cargo ship. You pull your gun back.

“You know how to steal a ship?” You throw your hand round the corner. Your shot hitting a masked man on the shoulder. You avoid watching him fall off the rafters. Another shot peeps you ear and cuts into the side of Kylos’ jacket.

“Aim higher-” he pushes your arms up “-You’re missing some”

“Well, I can’t see the people that are fucking shooting at us!”

“You’re getting more and more snarky Lieutenant!” He shouted, his eyes were flickering from ship to ship.

“Because-“ you dodge behind the cargo ships legs and feel the heat from a near-missed blast “-you’re having that kind of influence on me!”

He was imputing something into that cube you had seen before, “Maybe I could influence you to actually hit something!” He seethed. Suddenly, the image of him shouting at you while he peeled off that ugly looking jacket was getting _very_ appealing.

A pain ignited itself down your torso. It drew a thick scolding line down through your side.

_Yeah, not the time you thirsty bitch._

You throw your body around the leg of your ship, firing blinding. One blast ricochets of a ship's helm, slapping off the wall and hitting a pipeline which bursts open. The blast of air creating a filtered smoke screen.

“Yeah” you gesture at the flow of white smoke “I planned that”

Kylo grabbed your arm before you had time to bask in the moment.

“Move!”

Feet slap along the ground, kicking up dust. You can hear a scuffle from behind your but the Commander keeps a strong grip on your arm: Half running and half dragging you throw the array of ships.

With a distinctive _pew_ , a blaster shot narrowly misses your hair.

He pulls you up the side of a ship's hatch.

_A VCX-100 Light Freighter. That works. They’re fast._

He folds himself into the pilot seat, his cube pushed into a small gap on the panel. It’s a data cube - he’s overriding a ship's system. The engine jolts with a start, the ship coming to life under your hands. He pulls the ship up with a start and you hold onto a door so that you don’t slip down the ship's hull.

The ships shudders - throwing you headfirst into a door. The more Kylo revs the more the ship refuses to move forward.

The ships in a hanger. It has been left by an owner. If you were going to keep a ship safe you keep it locked down. A bolt. The ships attached to a bolt.

_Shit. Shit. It’s attached. The ship's fucking attached to the ground._

You turn to Kylo, grasping your hand on the ships door _“Open the hatch_ ”

“-Are you fucking insane?!” He screams his hands pulling at two separate components of the ship.

“Open the hatch!”

He gives you a considering look, murmurs ‘ _shit_ ’ under his breath, and opens the hatch. The cold wind brushes your skin and you can see the men and women below. No, the monsters below. A few blaster shots minutely miss your shoulder.

_Take a big step_.

You edge along the hatch, peering over the edge-

-Looking at a massive steel wire attached to the ship. It sunk into the wall. Grasped by an electromagnetic contraption; it was grounded. The ship was fucking grounded.

You grab the part attached to the hatch, pulling it with a strength you didn’t know you had. The bolts turn minutely but don’t move.

_Make it move._

Sweat pools in your hands slipping on the metal. A ridged bolt cuts into your hands and lets blood flow through the lines of your palm.

_Make it move._

You see it, visualise it in your mind. You could imagine the bolts loosening. The wire would snap and fall and you could be free.

_If it just moved._

Your body moves back, your eyes closing in a wave of calm and like it was in slow motion - the bolts fall loose and the wire snaps.

“Fuck-” you move then, running back along the hatch until you can airlock the door “-drive, drive, drive!” you throw yourself into the co-pilot seat and Kylo thrusts the ships forward.

The side grates the edge of the hanger as you peel out and push up into the atmosphere.

You breathe slowly, letting the feeling of relief run over you. Your wounds could wait. You sink into the seat, your eyes closing and listening to the hum of the engine.

“Commander…” you whispered into the expanse of the ship “…this stealth mission isn’t that stealthy”

“No” his body mimics yours, relaxing into the seat. “No, it is not”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your daily dose of outfit inspiration   
> [The ugly jacket ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/61/cb/8a/61cb8a81ae67f375c3e13c48b162b760.jpg)  
> [Readers outfit inspiration](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/27/bf/74/27bf74fdc84c2c73cd72e6797770742f.jpg)


	6. Little Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this is my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> Warning: both the reader and Kylo get aggressive with each other in this chapter. He slams her against a wall and she digs her nails into his skin - it is not sexual and they do not consent to this (They have issues....) 
> 
> If you want to skip that part, the section starts with "Apparently, insinuating that Kylo had feelings was a grave sin" and ends with "You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, Commander!” 
> 
> It wasn't meant to come off as abusive, but we can't deny that Kylo has done some shitty things. He just needs someone to knock him down a peg. 
> 
> I also made an extra mood board for my OC Jennine Neveru. Why? because I fell in love with her when I started writing her. She's soft but know's what she wants, I also love people who only dress in one color - it's hardcore. (i totally want to collect green clothes in the future)

The wound on your hand was deep. Without the necessary medical equipment, it will likely leave a criss-cross scar, the tissue deep and thick. You had searched the ship and only found some cheap gauze and a small roll of bandages; all of which were used to cover your hand.

Using your least dominant hand to dress a wound was hard but Kylo seemed to be ignoring you for the vast depths of space.

He hadn’t asked about how you removed the bolt. And you hadn’t offered to explain.

Since you had no idea how you did it.

The ship itself was large. Allowing for ample space to keep away from his brooding form.

The owner hadn’t seemed particularly interesting. No photos on the dash, sparse clothing, and minimal packages of food portions. You found a few cute plants and small doses of credits, but at least you could rule out stealing from anyone that could come hunting you down for the ship.

When you open another door, something brushes your foot before running into the hallway.

“Shit-” It was a tiny droid. Running off towards Kylo. “-You’re dead if you go running towards him buddy”

The _squeak_ of rusty wheels echoes down the hallway.

Until you grab him, lifting him to get a good look.

“We’ll go show you to Kylo together little dude...sorry for basically kidnapping you”

Kylo was sitting in the pilot seat when you find him. You sit down in the co-pilot seat lifting your new little friend.

“It’s a droid-” you pick it by its cone-like head, its wheel spinning incessantly. It wasn’t a named droid. Nothing to indicate a particular maker or brand: its body made out of cheap metals and his paintwork more scratches than paint. “-he’s a little scrappy but kind of cute”

The Commander eyes you from the pilot’s seat, “It’s a piece of junk” he sighs.

You couldn’t really argue it. It was a piece of junk.

It had three spindly wheels; its main body made up of metal cone shape. It two tiny little arms- both of which were two different sizes- and his front wheel was thicker than the others. It had moved into a corner, shaking under the weight or your stares.

“It’s alright little fella, I’m not going to hurt you” you lift him underneath his body, pressing it your chest. He makes a few aggressive beeps before allowing himself to be rocked in your arms. It lights up a small blue light underneath its’ radar eye. With a press, it projects a holomap of Vandor. You give a delighted gasp, “It’s got map data!”

“We’re not keeping it. We’ll sell it in Canto-” he steps out of his chair “-maybe he’ll pay back the tip you made me give the waitress”

You hold the little gizmo up to your face, “Please”

“Look at its little wheels” You pick it up. Playfully, you roll its wheels back and forth until it makes an affronted squeak. You may have to check if droids can be ticklish. “Plus- “you continue “-We basically stole it from its owner. It’s ours to take care off now”

“It’s scrap” he presses a few buttons, his face taught.

Whatever her saw when he looked at you, must have made him realise that this wasn’t up for debate.

“If it- “he starts.

“What? Looks at you wrong?’

With each passing day, Kylo seems to unveil another facet of his personality. But this was a side you knew all too well. The grit of his jaw, his heavy breathing, and the set of shoulders. It’s like all the passing fun had been sucked back into the menace that was Kylo Ren. This was the Commander, not your…person?

Something good can never last forever.

When he stood it was in an attempt to dominate you, an overwhelming presence that leaned over your form. It was not sexual, nor fun, it was pure anger. Pouring out from his every pore. You could feel it in the same way you felt his presence.

Dangerous and raw.

“Keep it out of my sight” his voice crackled with unseen darkness “I don’t need something else bothering me”

_Excuse me._

He started to pace down the corridor of the freighter, marching in measured steps. You try to match him stride for stride.

You grab his arm. If he wanted to confront you, he’ll do it to your face.

“Have I done something to upset you?”

“Upset me? -” he scoffed in faux indignation, his curls his hand around yours so tight that it hurts “-you’ve enraged me! You risked your life on Vandor. You acted recklessly, dangerously, and could have died walking across that hatch. Not only that, but you seem to be incapable of doing the one job you are tasked with.” he growled menacingly at you.

You knew his grip would leave bruises. He might enjoy that.

“Careful. Someone might think you actually care” your voice was measured, lacking any infliction. He can’t ignore that he liked you, he definitely can’t ignore that he wanted to fuck you.

Apparently, insinuating that Kylo had feelings was a grave sin.

“I don’t-” he throws his other hand on your neck, shoving you hard into a closed door. His face was breathing so close to your while his hand put pressure on either side of your neck “-You push your luck Lieutenant. I show you a slither of interest and you think you’re special. You’re nothing. Your just another expendable body in a sea of Lieutenants who could do your job better”

His voice strung like a vicious slap.

The breath that hissed out you was like a snake. 

You bought your hands up to grip his arms. Digging your nails in. You prayed It hurt.

“I saved your ass and I don’t think _you_ should lecture me on following doing _my_ job. What have you been doing with yours Kylo? Was my clitoris your bounty? Cause you’ve been making sure to find that!” if your words rattled him it did not show.

He removes one of his hands, only to slam it next to your face “You mean nothing to me-“

“Let go”

He’s shouting at you then, so close that you can see the tense muscles under his eye twitch, “-Do you understand?!”

“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, _Commander_!” you’re screaming now. Your voice pitched with badly concealed rage.

Kylo seems to come back to himself, his eyes watching you, stunned into silence. He drops his hands then, like all the anger that clouded his mind had dissipated. He watches you his face changing through emotions so quickly. You look down to see your nails had drawn blood on his wrist as it flows freely on to the floor.

_Would this be what you do to each other?_

“I’m- “he breathes lightly as he examines your neck. You felt no pain and you didn’t sense a bruise. But the way he was looking at you was, it was as if he had broken something expensive “-I’m not going to apologise for worrying about your life-”

“So, for an apology, this is going to be pretty poor’”

“Would you listen to me without fighting me for once?” he says, as though the fight had gone out of him. Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone out of you.

“Would you stop being an aggressive asshole every time something doesn’t go your way?!” grabbing at his tunic you drag him down to your face.

“We got noticed. Fine. Things go wrong that’s how missions work. You can’t plan for everything. It doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. This is my first time doing this sort of mission, so maybe I’m struggling, but you don’t get to blame me for your attitude” You say, digging your hands into his clothes. 

“You drive me crazy” he sighs like it was difficult for It to come out his mouth. “-and I don’t know how to do _this_.”

He didn’t expand on what _‘this’_ was, and you didn’t want to ask. Not now. Not like this. `

“This isn’t what I wanted to say. I…should not have touched you like that. I would never…” his mouth formed the words over and over again. As though he’s never had to apologise for something. Or maybe he’s never tried. “I should never…. you shouldn’t forgive me for that.”

“I hurt you too” you whisper, your hands releasing his tunic. “Don’t grab me like that again.”

“I won’t-” he says it like it’s the easiest promise he’s ever made “-ever”

You brush his injured wrist, “And I won’t hurt you again”

“now- “he strokes a finger over the back of your hand “-that’s a promise you can’t keep”

When he led you back to the cockpit you went without a fight.

“What will you name him?” he gestures towards the droid as it rolls backward and forwards.

You watch the little droid for a while, “JD-1. Short for ‘junk droid’ and it’s the only one of its kind”

You spent the rest of your flight in silence. Your head leaning towards the left window, ensuring that JD-1 got all of your attention.

* * *

Looking at Canto Bight from the cockpit window did not have the same feeling as Vandor. It was loud, scattered with ships and extravagance. Streets lined with gold, buildings tall and imposing, all high tech and high cost.

JD-1 had whistled when he saw it.

“You should scan this place little buddy-” you rubbed his head “-I’m going to need to know my way around this place”

“He’s staying here” Kylo states, hooking his lightsabre to a holder under his shirt “We can’t meet our informant with a droid. We also have an appointment”

You pat JD-1 lightly.

“Looks like you’re protecting the ship-” you turn, Kylo watching out the cockpit. You had docked the ship, and no one seems particularly concerned with a freighter. Although, you did look particularly poor next to all the expensive ships. “-we have an appointment?”

He shrugs “I looked in your bag- “

“invasive but okay”

“-Your formal wear wasn’t exactly Canto Bight ready. We’re meeting our informant in a Casino. You can’t even get in unless it looks like you snort money” He looks you over.

“My green dress not cut it?” you sass.

He shakes his head, “Haven’t you had a mission in Canto?’

_Yeah, and I spent a lot of it getting drunk with Levi. I don’t remember the clothes, but I remember the hangover._

“No” 

“Liar-” he brushes your hand when he leans over to observe the dock “-We’re going to an old acquaintance. Jeninne will sort us out”

“Us?” you smile.

“Do I look like I wear a suit?”

_No. But I’d sure like to see you in one._

Jeninne’s turned out to be a salon on the outskirts of the city.

You had – reluctantly- left JD-1 with the ship. Who was instructed to hide if anyone came near the ship and you left with Kylo to walk to the salon. You had to leave your gun as Kylo ensured you can’t hide a gun in whatever dress Julianne would put you in.

The salon itself was a small store built out a shiny red metal, it gleamed in the light and looked like a massive gem in a sea of grey and black. When the Commander opened the door inside was an array of feathered couches, twinkling lights, and pink décor. The owner stood behind a counter, watching you like you were the oddest thing in the room.

And the room had a pink statue of Dewback.

Jeninne Neveru looked like what every Canto Bight aristocrat looked like: _eccentric._

Her hair: a bright bubble-gum pink, her dress: a fuchsia tulle. Her shoes: more fucking pink. She had stuck white pearls around her eyes and her outfit was so voluminous that she created a barrier between her and the world. Her hair was like a soft rose, falling in straight length until It hit her knee and bursting in coral shine.

It hurts to look when you realise _that’s_ what femininity looks like.

And she was looking at Kylo like he was a soft milk pudding: sweet and delicious.

“Kylo! -” her voice was soft and sweet, silken with an indiscernible accent “-you are a sight for pretty eyes!” she comes up to Kylo without an inch of fear and ruffles his hair “- do you come for a haircut? You look like Ewok. So shabby”

He brushes her hands from his hair. Although, his face looks happily rescinded rather than annoyed.

_So that’s the type of woman Kylo likes._

“Not today. I need a suit and a dress. Nothing too flashy-’ He walks with her over to a more secluded area of the salon. Sitting down on a feathered colored chair “- just enough to get us into the Casino”

She laughs like a windchime, her voice like a gather of bells.

“You have the audacity to ask for something plain? Me? -” she picks up her dress, letting it cover her seat “- that’s insulting. I shall give you what I have, and you will not complain. I will make you and your girl look pretty, make sure you pay me well”

“Have I ever not paid you well?”

“This will cost you more” she turns to look at you then “My dresses are expensive, and she will require work”

“She- “you chime in from the door “-is right here”

Jeninne hums noncommittedly and stands up to walk towards. She floats rather than strolls, walking around you to poke and prod at your body. She pinches your cheek in the long point of her nails.

“You are pretty…but neat” he smiles “- I don’t like neat. We will make you the feisty bird I see inside. Yes. You will be delicate, powerful, and terrifying. No more _neat_.”

She slaps your ass earning a sharp squeak from you.

“We start work now. If you want to make it in time. My assistant will help you in the next room Kylo-” she taps your lip “-you, however, are mine.”

The glint in her eye and the tilt of her lips had you thinking that it wasn’t a good thing.

* * *

Jennine didn’t do anything in halves.

You didn’t even have a chance to say ‘ _no pink ’_ before she had pushed you into the seat. A sharp comb pulling your hair back from your face. Kylo had been pushed into another room, not sparing you a glance.

Obviously, your fight was still causing a rift.

“Hmm- “she pulls all your hair back, pushing through it with a clear gel “-How can someone with such pretty features lack taste?”

You didn’t know what Jennine knew. You didn’t know what you could say. However, she seems to know Kylo so well. The way she touched him without preamble, she does not see him with fear, nor consider him a threat.

“I don’t really have a job where I can look… _stylish_ ”

“I know your job little one. First Order grey is such a disgusting color” she’s slicking back your hair with ample precision, her tongue poking past her purple lipstick “My mind can see your militance. Though, I have never seen Kylo so soft except in your presence”

Kylo had barely looked at you.

But her eyes look into yours like she sees more. Like she sees you and maybe she sees him.

“Kylo is never soft-” you were definitely pouting now as she started shuffling around in a fluffy bag “-He shouted at me earlier. We fought. I even made him bleed”

“He has his problems. A passionate temper but a deep sadness, no?” she was pulling out levels and levels of gold foil “but a man like Kylo, he can change. I feel it in him. My wife always says that light is in all of us and that we can find it with the right love and care”

“Kylo doesn’t love me”

“Oh, little one-” she smiles while she places little gold leaves around your eyes “-He may not love you now, but he could”

* * *

When she had dressed you and decided that you were finally Canto ready, she allowed you to stand on a platform facing a mirror shrouded in roses.

But when she said she would make you a bird, you didn’t realise it was literal.

The dress she has chosen had a bodice made of gold feathers, each stuck down until it looked like armor. The filtered up to a halter neck and have a keyhole gap in the middle, which explained why she had stuck tape to you boobs (getting that off later Is going to suck). The feathers bodice stops above the near before fishtailing out into gold silk.

Your eyes and mouth were covered in gold leaf, so much so that it covered your eyebrows and your lips were overly plump. She had slicked your hair back. It looked as though you had been showered in gold.

“I thought Kylo said not to do something flashy”

“And I told Kylo to shut his mouth-” she fiddles with the bottom of your dress, fussing over some small detail “-in Canto, gold isn’t even the richest metal. There will be women dressed in diamonds little one.” She stands next to you to admire her own work “-My wife made ruby nipple tassels”

“I’m going to file that In my head as another thing I didn’t need to know” you wobble slightly on the gold heels she gave you.

“Welcome to aristocracy little bird” she pats your cheek “You better hope you can fly”

You walked into the main store to find a young man fussing with Kylo’s’ suit. He was in a simple black suit, so different from your extensive overturn. The only thing showing him off was a simple gold broach, shaped into the form of a moth.

But it was obvious that you were meant to be a pair.

You didn’t realise you were staring until you looked up at him, catching his eyes.

He was staring like at you like he’s never seen you before. His mouth was caught in a gasp and his eyes were stroking your form, with such a strong intensity, that you can’t help but blush. This feeling is sexual and strong, his eyes trying to look at your clothes and simultaneously undress you.

It’s like he’s never seen anything this powerful.

And you had to stop it.

“Rule number three” you say, your voice surprisingly husky.

“Rule number three” he replies.

He reaches his arm towards you, a subtle invitation. You take his arm, every inch a lady.

“Ready to be rich?” he says.

“Ready to be outshined?” you reply.

He smirks, “You do that already”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Readers Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/f7/18/b0f718c7c2a76e50120ffd7834a825a8.jpg)   
>  [Jennine's Outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/01/bb/32/01bb32bab4de0ef7f77d2bb7125f37f3.jpg)
> 
> As a weird insight into how I make my characters - this is my Pinterest board (Some characters haven't been seen yet - but I like the full aesthetic) 
> 
> .


	7. Pride & Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this is my [ Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> This is the longest chapter I've written so far. This is crazy to me because I never thought I would get so attached to the characters. 
> 
> Shout out to @wtfisupkylo who has been my unofficial hype man for every chapter. They have been my motivation for this chapter. 
> 
> IT'S ALSO MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW ( 22 years on this earth - wild)

Jeninne had a land speeder to take you to the casino. Kylo had raised his eyebrow at it but the seamstress cut him off with a - ‘ _it’s not like your friends with anyone else here’_ \- which seemed to push Kylo into submission.

Kylo didn’t talk for most of the drive. He did, however, hold your hand in a soft touch, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

You turned to him, the air whipping at your face and held out both your hands. Cusped together like you were holding a bowl.

“What?” he said.

“Money” you made a _gimme_ gesture with your fingers “- we can’t go to a casino and not gamble. That’s ridiculous. It’ll help me become my character” your childish display has his lips turning up at the edges, his hands coming up to close yours like a bad book.

“No”

You pouted in the hope that he might fall for it, “What? Why?”

“I’ve already lost money because of you” he says, as though one waitresses tip and a few outfits bankrupt him.

“but _you’re_ basically made of credits-” you pull his hands to yours “-please” you emphasize the ‘ _e’_ until he sighs, placing his hand on your palm. You put your head in his hand, looking up at him with a look you hope is pitiful and cute at the same time. “You said you wanted me to blend in!”

“Don’t lose it all”

You smile, “No promises”

Except these weren’t credits.

He hands you three fat coins, each decorated with a moon.

“What are these?”

“Cantocoins. While you were getting dressed, I had one of Jennine’s workers transfer some credits into this currency-” he picks up a bronze one and turns it in his fingers “-they are used to bet in the casino. Only the casino and I was going to use them to bribe our guest if needed…but…” he trails off.

“Huh” you say, you and Levi didn’t bet when you were here.

He places the coin back into your hand.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “We should get you some books. There’s a lot you don’t know about. Currency, politics, languages-“you huff, causing Jeninne to stifle a laugh in the drives seat “- _etiquette_ ” his voice littered with sweet amusement.

“Something wrong with my etiquette?”

“Do not ask me questions you don’t want the answer to”

A part of you wanted to make him answer it. He’d get a far more _colourful_ reply.

“I’ll get you some” at your raised eyebrow he seems to hunt for some more words “-proper texts-” he gives you a small bag to put the coins away, you hadn’t even realised you been flipping them over with a nervous twitch “-back on the Finalizer”

_On the finalizer you’ll forget I exist. You’ll become the monster they all want you to be. The man who called me ‘girl’. The man who barely knew I existed._

“Where would I keep them? -” you think about your little hovel, your coffee machine and your tiny hole in the wall “-In a shoebox?”

“No” his says it with stern certainty “I’d move you out of the Lieutenants quarters. You would have enough space for anything you want. You’d just have to ask”

What he was asking was more than just casual sex. It would be claiming you in front of the whole First Order. You weren’t stupid enough to think this was anything else by Kylo asking you to be his… _consort._ His easy access whore.

You’d be the girl who slept her way to top. Better living space, better clothing and no respect.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I won’t leave my quarters”

“If that is what you want”

“It is”

“Fine” he was grinding his teeth then. A sharp movement in his jaw.

* * *

Jeninne drops you off outside the casino steps, giving you a wink that can only be described as _salacious._ You give her a gesture that is the exact opposite of ladylike, before schooling your features.

You’re a _lady_ now.

Kylo whispers a few words to her, before joining you on the casino steps.

The casino itself was like an overarching dome. Donned with intricate metal work and fantastical lighting that jumped from beam to beam. You tried not to stare – that would be a poor person thing to do- you need to look like you’re used to the lifestyle.

“It’s nothing special” you scoff, exaggeratedly flipping you hand.

He pulls your hand to wrap it around his arm. “I said to act wealthy, not to act like Hux”

“Tone down the pretentiousness then?” He starts walking you up the steps, with you using arm like a crutch. You hadn’t exactly had enough time to break in the heels.

“Should I make a background for the rich versions of me-“ you considered your options “-I could be the heir to a fortune, or I sell massive weapons, or my first husband's mysterious death left me loads of coin, or-“ a look from him ceased your babbling.

“Lieutenant-” you wobbled slightly on a step “-are you nervous?”

“This isn’t my world. I feel out of place”

“This isn’t my idea of fun either”

“You have fun?” you bite, causing him to sigh like being with you required more energy than he had.

Turns out Jeninne was right, there would be people dressed far more luxurious than you. You couldn’t help but be hopelessly fascinated by a lady’s massive hat, a tall, imposing red thing that almost swallowed her. It seemed to shudder and squirm under your stare.

_Did that just move?_

A small tentacle comes out of the hat, wiping away some of her smudged makeup, before curling into itself.

_Yeah. It moved._

“Did you…? Did you see that?”

“Don’t stare” he mutters, a firm grip on your arm.

You turn to him, the ladies hat wobbling on her head like a jelly, “Her hat has a tentacle! What am I supposed to do? Shake its arm?”

He smirks at that, guiding you up the steps, “That _would_ be polite”

“You can go shake it’s hand then-“ a few more tendrils of arms come out of the women’s hat then, sucking soft marks on her neck “- _hands. Plural_.”

You’ve never heard Kylo laugh, but he brings his hand up to chuckle softly into his palm. It’s more of a tight breathing than a laugh but _you take what you can get._

The First Order deemed sentiment useless, joy a weakness and softness a sin. But in the sunsets golden light, with the shine of an abundance of jewels, Kylo looked so pure. A fry cry from the war faring Sith and the brutal Commander.

It made you wonder what he was like as a child.

Did he smile and play? Did he enjoy the water as you did? Did he have a first love?

Despite your time together, he hadn’t been open about himself. Maybe you should tell him more about yourself too.

If Canto Bight Casino looked intimidating from the outside, the inside looked like the embodiment of opulence. 

High ceilings, large chandeliers, and money _literally_ raining down on to visitors.

You glimpsed a room on the left that was full of butterflies. Real butterflies.

When you push a few more steps into the entrance, there is a brightly gilded mirror expanding along the wall. Giving the egocentrics time to look at themselves for a bit longer. The lady with the mysterious hat, seemed to stare at herself for far too long, but when you stared into it you understood why.

It was the second time you saw yourself like this, but it wasn’t the same. With you back straight and the delicate warm light of the ceilings – you looked powerful.

You didn’t look like a Lieutenant anymore.

Your dress looked like the most elegant armor, its fabric flicking light in all directions, your makeup creating a decadence you had never seen before.

You looked ethereal. Regal. Wealthy. All of the things that used to seem out of arms reach.

Kylo stands behind you, his eyes tracing your figure in the mirror.

His hands run the sides of your back before he hooks his head over your shoulder.

“Look. You didn’t need a uniform at all” _Not that you gave me a choice._

“It’s still a costume. A fallacy. I’ll return to normal once the night is up”

“You could be dressed like this every night” his eyes undressing you against the soft chandelier light. A thought passes that you’ve never actually kissed. He’ll kiss your ankles, your thighs, your neck but he’s not kissed your lips - not even once. Seeing your distraction, he grabs your chin, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror.

“Do you feel that?” he pulls your hair back with one hand, his lips brushing the side of your neck, folding his body to melt into yours “That’s power. Looking like this you can control a room. Make them want you. Make them need you. Use it to your advantage and then rip it away if you need too-“ His eyes catch yours in the mirror, half hooded and reflecting the gold light “-beauty is just another weapon in your arsenal, learn how to use it Lieutenant and you could have anything you want”

“You have no idea what I want” you tried to sound strong, like the strings of power didn’t pull at your soul. 

“No” he murmured into the soft flesh of our shoulder “but I guess we’ll find out”

You shudder out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Kylo kept an arm on you throughout the casino, walking you around like the lady of a period piece, like you should go see an opera next. Wouldn’t that just be _dashing?_ Early on, you start to realise that you enjoy playing a part. Although he parades you around like auctioned cattle, you get to listen to the idle chatter of the wealthy and _absorb._

When you stop to affront a jubilee wheel – which Kylo deems a losing game- and an old man grabs your attention.

“Now, what a pretty thing! Do you gamble my dear?” he chuckles, the light reflecting off his bald head.

“Me? Oh no. My husband-“you pinch Kylo’s side which has his natural scowl tipping into a pained attempt at normalcy “-does not want me losing all his hard-earned money. Isn’t that right dear? He spends too much on my clothes you see.”

“Have you ever gambled on a jubilee wheel?”

“I have not, how do you play?”

_You had; jubilee wasn’t a difficult concept. Just pick a number between 1-100, hope the wheel lands on it and if it doesn’t, hope you’re the closest one to it. But, if he was hoping to sucker a big bet out of a naïve couple, then he could have it._

As the gentleman rattles off a complicated description of a simple game, you tap Kylo’s arm, over and over again. Once, twice, three times until you hit twelve, then moved his hand slightly with yours. If Kylo had half the intelligence he boasts he should understand.

“-Will you play?” the man interrupts your subtle hints.

“Yes, what number should we pick love?”

“ _hmm-_ ” Kylo makes a façade of peering over the table, as though he had to look at them to make a reasoned choice “-I think twelve is the winning number” you smile, he must understand.

“Fantastic” Kylo doesn’t grab at your hand when you place all your coins on twelve, so you figure it’s okay.

The ball spins along with the wheel when the croupier calls for last bets. It bounces non-committedly between the walls and your hand tightens around Kylo’s arm.

A warning – to not fuck it up.

With a flick of the Commanders' hand and a brush of hidden energy, the balls fall.

Perfectly into number twelve.

‘Wow. Would you look at that!” you give Kylo a delightfully fake smile “Beginners luck!”

_And the force._

The older gentleman no longer seemed as interested in you, especially when the croupier hands over a ridiculous amount of Cantocoins, which he scowls at with the intent of a scorned woman.

Kylo leads you away, his hand pushing on the small of your back.

He whispers in your ear, “Your husband?” while he pulls over to a bar.

“It’s called a creative license” you place a few of your coins in his hand “-and there you go. For the waitresses tip”

“and the rest?”

“We’re married. Thus, we share things now” you can play coy just as well as any women.

A rodian bartender comes over to enquire about your order. You order a glass of Corellian red wine – on your new funds – and Kylo shakes his head when you give him a questioning look. Instead, he surveyed the room with the same intensity he had as when he walked you around it.

Looking for the snake in the grass.

“Are they even here?” You smile when the bartender gives you a glass “We could be here for nothing”

He holds your waist, acting the dutiful date. “I’ve been in contact with them”

“Keeping me out of the loop is starting to get really dull”

“As you have told me-” he bites his inner cheek “- _multiple times_ ”

Kylo, moves your body, turning you towards a Twi’lek woman in the corner, hidden in a booth. Her skin a deep purple, dressed in a white pressed pantsuit, her lekku decorated in pearl rings.

Nothing about her was particularly out of the ordinary - until you notice her brooch.

A small, golden moth.

The same golden moth adorning your _husband._

You scoff, “Very subtle”

You didn’t want to say that it was a clever way to distinguish your contact. That would give Kylo an ego boost.

He points at the bar top. “Stay here”

“So, I’m playing rich wife while you speak to another woman?” you pout mockingly over the wine glass “How will I ever survive?”

“ _Stay here_ ” he says it this time with his ‘ _commander’_ voice, making it an order rather than a suggestion “and be-“ he struggles to find the words “be good”.

* * *

Drinking alone was lackluster. Kylo was discussing the bounty with the twI’lek women, bent down in the booth, his mouth in a thin line. While you worked through your second glass of wine.

“A little bird in a sea of monsters. What an _interesting_ choice”

The voice grazed your neck. It was deep, distinctly masculine, and sent a chill through your spine. Sometimes voices have a feeling. This feeling was rich, smooth like music, and _not_ Kylo.

The man stood next to you at the bar.

_Oh boy._

He was more than a man. He was art.

His skin is deep and dark. His stature - broad. His demeanor – wild.

A purple streak of paint was drawn from one side of his face to the other, going across his eyes in abstract strokes. His suit is a floral purple print. It should look ridiculous, but with the rich velvet and black undershirt, he seemed decadent.

He looks like a high-class treat.

Despite his colourful display, what caught your eye was the massive gold ring hanging from his nose, covered in indents of iridescent stone. It hung like a heavy weight – almost touching the skin of his lip. His hair is tendrils of braids, flowing down his back and threaded with mahogany ribbon; an artistic delicacy in a room of exuberance.

Kylo had told you to blend in with the rich.

_Conversation wasn’t forbidden, was it?_

“Are you one of those monsters?” you sass, leaning on the bar.

“Isn’t every man?” he peruses the drinks with a cultured eye “We sell weapons to both sides of a war. We cut down nature until a planet is barren. We treat droids as replaceable rather than autonomous. We are all monsters. Some people just delude themselves into think they’re not”

You sipped your wine, not denying that his words struck a chord.

“Are you drunk?”

He laughs then. A penetrating and smoky sound.

“If you don’t drink in Canto-“ he turns his body to face yours “-then you won’t make it in Canto.”

“That doesn’t answer my question”

“Doesn’t it?” he whispers. His smile is so cheeky and full of life.

The reptilian bartender returns to give your colourful acquaintance his full attention.

When you turn from watching them you see Kylo’s’ eyes. The twi’lek woman was intently speaking to him, her body hunched over the table. Kylo - on the other hand- was matching your gaze for gaze.

He raises an eyebrow. A subtle warning.

It shouldn’t make you blush, but his intense stare has you growing bashful.

“Your date seems distracted-” the gentleman says before you, smiling with all the charm of a debutant “-does he often talk to other women after parading you around?”

He had a drink now, but he didn’t look like he was going to drink it. You guessed that you weren’t the only one posturing tonight.

_Guess we’re both birds of paradise – showing off our colours._

“We have an open relationship” you sigh, downing your drink with a practiced swig. Drinking in Canto – that was something you knew how to do.

“Then he won’t mind if I took you for a spin” he brightens up then, “Do you dance?”

_I don’t think grinding on Levi while fucked on ale counted._

“Sure-” Kylo was fine and he can’t sue you for wanting to dance. He said that you should learn how to manipulate a room - consider this _training_ , “-you better lead”

You’d only be gone a few minutes.

Kylo wouldn’t even notice.

“I would consider it an honor” he bows mockingly, before taking you hand in a light hold and placing it on his forearm.

He pulls you along the gaggle of gamblers, showing you to the butterfly room you saw earlier. Though a small glimpse could not compare to the pure beauty of the glittering display. You gasp before you can submerse your glee. The room was swelling with beautifully adorned butterflies, each more spectacular than the other. The dip and dive in a wild show, sometimes grazing your arm with tenderness. The ceiling is covered in hanging vines, allowing your animal companions to take rest and sustenance. Some of the people _ooh_ and _aww,_ others seem unfazed by such a show.

The curse of the wealthy: always wanting a bit more.

He swings you in a spin, pulling you into the sea of dancing bodies, and then tight against his front.

“Do you know how to waltz?”

You shake your head. That would be a massive _no_.

“Well-” he brings his hand to the small of your back and places your left hand onto his arm. “-no time to learn but the present”

He sweeps you into his arms and pulls you into a complicated movement of legs that felt more like a shuffle than a dance. when you look at your feet your dance partner huffs.

“Sweetheart” he taps you chin “don’t look at your feet”

_Right. Okay._

After a while, you gain a broken rhythm. A few times you step on his feet, which has him cackling while he spins you through the room. The music Is some trifling orchestral drivel that seems to sweep between fast and slow. Your mind slipping between the swelling tones and your body trying to keep up.

He eventually pulls you a stop, ushering you onto an empty balcony which the excuse of needing air.

He pulls out a packet from his suit pocket, tipping it towards you. “Deathstick?”

“A what?”

Your partner laughs, flipping the lid on his packet open.

“It’s similar to a cigarette. It lightens you up sweetheart. I thought it might brighten your mood, especially since your date has abandoned you to the wolves-” you flinch at the mention of your _date_ , especially since you didn’t know how long you had been dancing

“-I do ensure you that the residences of this _fine establishment_ have noticed your purity and long to take advantage of it”

_Act wealthy._

You scoff, leaning on the balcony’s ridge. “I’m not _pure”_

“You have never heard of a deathstick my love? In this region that’s almost unheard off” he smiles like he’s reminiscing an inside joke “for someone decorated-“ he hand brushes the waist of your dress “-in such a lavish manner, you seem to avoid the vices of the rich”

“I’ve…I’ve had a long day is all. I’m not myself”

“Then maybe-“ he shakes the packet “-you should relax after such a long day, no?”

It wasn’t like Kylo needed you.

It’s not like you would ever be in Canto again.

When you take one, he smiles.

And when he smiles his teeth are sharp.

* * *

You released quickly that deathsticks weren’t the same as cigarettes.

Cigarettes don’t make carnivorous plants grow out your hand.

Or pink rabbits flood the ballroom floor.

Or make someone’s fake eyelashes fly away – _literally_ fly away.

You thought for a moment it might not be real. But it felt real. And it felt good. It felt like you were flying so far above everyone else.

You were a little bird.

You were dancing. Swaying an unconscious rhythm, watching the plants tighten around your arm, growing eyeballs on their little sprouts. The wobble against your skin when you start spinning, your arms flowing like limp noodles in hot water. One little plant bites your finger and you laugh hysterically.

Hands are in your hair. Another pair is drawing lines down the keyhole of your dress, causing bubbles to appear and float over your chest. A lady is in front of you, drawing her hails over the corner of your breast and licking at your neck. It has you laughing loudly and throwing your head back and into another person’s shoulder, who is biting the shell of your ear.

You feel a pull and you're being dragged viciously away from your suitors, narrowly avoiding all the bunnies on the dancefloor. When you look up you see a flop of black hair, and a viciousness that compels you to smile.

“Kylo!”

He slams you up against the wall. Watching the people around you with a studious eye. Your fingers paw at his belt.

You want him in you now.

“Be quiet” he slaps your hands away “What do you think you’re doing!”

You _boop_ a sprout that crawling up your forearm “Dancing with my plants”

“What plants?-” he grabs your face, the squish of his palms soothing you to close your eyes “-Look at me-” He holds your head still “-What have you taken?-” you shrug and laugh when one of your sprouts climb up your hand and bite him on the nose. Colours were bright but you could see all the pink of his face. And the yellow swirls of the room.” _-Fuck_ ”

“Right now?” You lift your hands pulling at the zip of your dress. You were too hot anyway. He could fuck you right on the dancefloor if he wants. As long as the bunnies don’t look.

He’s gripping your hands. You whine and stomp your feet like a toddler. He has no right to stop you.

The dress was tight.

You wanted to be naked.

He holds you still, gripping your hands above your head.

“ _Enough!”_

It’s said with so much power that it has you moaning, trying to grind yourself against him. There are hands on your thighs, lifting you like you’re as light as a cloud, arms holding you like a princess.

You are eating an orange. Not the fruit, but the colour. It’s bitter.

“I didn’t know you could taste colours”

You’re being carried now, you watch the glitter float above your head, dipping in weird shapes.

“You should really be fired” the Commander says.

“I see rainbows-” colours fill your senses, dancing in a rhythmic samba. “-and they have legs”

“I’m going to fire you” he groans. But you’re moving up and flowing through an abyss of diamonds and leaping rainbows.

“ _Run rainbow, run_ ”

“I hope you get demoted”

“Where’s my friend? My colourful friend”

“Who?” your body has stopped moving. Kylo is looking down at you, his hands holding your legs tightly.

“A man” you draw his form in the sky. The purple line from your finger creating a stick man.

_Kylo would understand when he saw that._

Your moving again, faster than before. You lean against Kylo’s chest hearing the intense beat of his heart.

“You were with a _man!_ ” it was more a statement than a question.

“A pretty man-” you sigh, mouthing at the collar of his shirt “-he called me _sweetheart_. You should call me _sweetheart_ more”

“oh, there’s a lot of words I want to call you right now”

“like what?”

“ _little whore”_

You sigh against his chest, head lulling in exhaustion.

“I like it when you call me your ‘good girl’” you murmur, your mouth leaving wet marks on his shirt.

“I won’t be calling you that for a while after this”

Sleep calls you then, falling deep, listening to the beat of Kylo’s heart.

* * *

When you woke there was a blistering sunbeam across your cheek.

Your head is pounding, and you close your eyes against the burning light.

Opening your eyes, you see a chandelier and the soft plush of a bed.

You can feel silk under your thighs and your dress had been removed because you can breathe. Moaning when an ache pounds your head, you roll over onto your front, sighing into the pillow.

“I wouldn’t get comfortable”

_Oh no._

Grimacing, you turn your head and meet eyes with _him_.

He looks disheveled and unkempt, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his eyes sore from a lack of sleep, sitting against a chair that reminds you of the night on Vandor. Although, this definitely was not going to be as nice.

_Oh no._

“’Oh no’ is right” he spreads his legs in the chair. An obvious power move that has you crossing your legs underneath the bed sheet.

“Rule nu- “

“Do not speak to me about rules right now- “he stands up rolling his sleeves up to your elbows “-especially after last night”

You shuffle to get on top of sheets, to find out your covered in a silky brown top and nothing else.

“Did you change my dress?”

“Does it matter?”

_No, right now it probably didn’t matter._

“Sorry” even to your own ears your voice sounded weak.

He stands, a strong presence in the small room. “Are you?”

“I told you I’d let you know when I was giving you a punishment, consider this your warning” he kneels onto the bed, his trousers straining under the force of his thighs. His tie and jacket have been abandoned and the show of his collarbone was overly sexual for a man usually so covered.

You bring your knees up to your chest, hoping to create distance and cover your exposed skin, “Right now?”

“Right now.” He was watching you with consideration. He hadn’t moved any closer to you, hovering on an invisible praecipe. Waiting for you to reject him or to run.

“ _Oh_ ” your voice was a whisper. So delicate in the massive room. “Can I say no?”

He leans forward and presses his hand to your cheek.

His hand was, so large it covered your cheek, and you leant into it before you could think better of it. It was so pure. So, unlike your relationship so far. He hadn’t been this _soft_ – as Jeninne would say- since this thingstarted. He was arrogant, dominant, and brash. He would boss about; make you feel utterly under his control.

This was new – this was sweet.

“Do you want to say no?” he says, his thumb rubbing along your cheekbone.

“No-” it comes out of your mouth choked, as if you were realising a much-hidden secret. Something about _this time_ felt different. It felt like far too much “-but I thought we said no sex”

He watches his thumb move over his cheekbone, like it was the most memorising thing in the room, a sublime gift in the dark shade of the room.

His voice deepens, his eyes clouded with a darkening light, “Consider this me stretching the boundaries of the rules. After all, you broke one of mine.”

“What?” you say shallowly.

He pinches your cheek then.

“I told you to be _good_ ”

The way he says ‘ _good’_ has guilt swell in your throat. You never felt particularly guilty before. You knew what you wanted, and you did what you want. This mission, however, _has_ made you reckless. You’ve acted out, shouted at your superior, and done drugs all within days. And that doesn’t include the sexual elements.

It made you realise what you had mentally buried for so long.

That you wanted him to punish you.

That you wanted to act out, push his limits, make him mad – so that he’ll notice you.

“I…I tried” You grip his hand when he tries to pull it away.

_Don’t take the only intimacy I’ve ever had. Please don’t._

He takes your hand instead. Kissing the tip of your fingers, each on deserving more attention than the other. Before he bites the tip of your thumb with teasing aggression.

“Tried so hard that you danced with some man, smoked drugs, and lost sight of me. What kind of guard are you?” he’s teasing. But there’s an element of bitterness in his words. Like each thing you did drove him closer to a ledge.

“We both know you don’t need a guard”

He grabs both your hands. Bringing them up to his chest.

“I’m giving you one more chance to push me away” his eyes were molten. Your soul expanding somewhere out of your body.

You wouldn’t push him away. You never would.

“You can tell me to stop at any time-” he says, bringing his hands up the silk of your sleep shirt. Just placing it over your hips, eyes watching every inch of your exposed pussy “-but I hope you don’t”

It strikes you that you’re wet. Leaving a sopping trail onto the sheets. He’s watching your pussy clench over nothing before he pulls away.

“Get on your knees-” he points to the end of the bed “-lean over the bed”

He moves off the bed to watch you scramble for purchase on the silk. You get on to your knees facing the bed, before a large hand pushes your chest on to the comforter. He pulls your arms apart, stretching them flat.

A divisive hand lifts your shirt back up around your waist, before soothing the skin of your right ass cheek.

“I’m going to spank you. Ten hits to each cheek”, he rubs your ass while he says it. So delightful sweet for a sadist. Pinching the skin on the top of your thigh, he steps back.

You can’t imagine what he sees.

You don’t want to.

You must look like a mess.

His voice mumbles and you can make out the word ‘ _beautiful’_ before a blistering heat burns up your ass. The hit was harsh and without warning, causing you the arch against the bed and shriek. _Wailing_ would be the right word. You knew the Commander was strong, but one hit was enough to have you keening against the sheets.

Twenty. Twenty might be too much.

His hand comes to stroke the blistering heat of the cheek he hit, before slapping the other one in equal measure. “You’re going to sit down for days remembering this”

_I hope so._

He slaps each cheek again with equal measure, a sharp reminder of what you did, and the sick mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Every time it stings, you’re going to get wet at the image of me hurting you” when you make no noise, he slaps each cheek again – this time with the back of his hand. ” Won’t you?”

You shudder against the pain, moving your chest against the bed, looking for some sort of friction “Yes!”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Commander”

“My sweet girl” he says it like an insult and it burns through your soul “A sweet girl whose been so bad” he drags his nail over one cheek “I might let you cum after this, Would you like that?”

You make an affirmative noise, but his deep tone – borderline _mocking_ – has you thinking that you are not getting what you want.

“Little dirty whore. Letting people grind up upon you. You didn’t see what I saw. -” He spanks you again, slamming his hand harshly on your left cheek, growling out the words as though the image of you last night _turned him on_. 

“-saw how that lady was touching herself just looking at you. Or the man grinding on your sexy fucking ass”

He bent down, looking at your bare cunt in the light. You could feel his hot breath against your core, and you shivered. But he wasn’t going to touch you there, he was just watching your arousal leak down your thighs, pushing his thumb on your clit.

He holds his thumb there will he spanks the other cheek.

“You looked fucking gorgeous and they knew that. But they don’t get to see you like this” he’s panting and your moaning, trying to grind on his thumb “-they don’t get to see your wet pussy, so puffy and pink. They don’t get to watch you fuck yourself on your fingers” he leans over, just to bring his lips to your ear. His voice a breathy whisper. “And they sure as hell won’t make you cum like I do”

You’re wet. So wet, that if you had been wearing any underwear, it would stick to you.

Mock sincerity is what you hear in his voice, “I seem to have forgotten what number were on? Four? Five?”

“Eight!”

“Are you sure?” In all honestly, you weren’t sure. Each moment blurred into the other. You shook your head. “Hmm. Guess I’ll have to start again” he continues, the feeling of his eyes caressing your skin. “Count for me - I seem to have become forgetful”

A part of you – the feral, dark creature in your psyche- wants to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, you bow to a sweet surrender.

He slaps you again. “One”

And again. “Two!”

“Thre-“ and again “Three”

“Can you handle more?”

_More what?_

Your mouth is gripping at the sheet, holding it to keep yourself quiet.

He feeds his hand into the hair of your scalp, before pulling it back, ripping the sheet from your teeth. “Use your words. If you want something you have to ask me for it.”

You bite down the swell of humiliation for the hum of wanting more. “Please Commander”

“Please what?”

“Please give me more!”

You feel his presence step back from you, his hand dropping from your hair, when you turn your head, he’s feeding his belt through his hands.

A predator. Holding his weapon of choice.

He bends the belt to make a loop, before wrapping part of it round one hand.

This time, he doesn’t aim for your ass, he brings the belt along the back of your thigh. You think you shout, but over the dull thumping in your ears, you can’t tell.

Counting. You were counting.

Everything started to blur. Your mouth was moving. He was alternating the level of pain, changing where he hit you, like he was practiced. You didn’t realise your lip was quivering.

Bitter, was the taste of your tears. The last slap had water brimming in yours eyes. Not from the pain, that was nothing worse than a First Order hazing. But the feeling – it was otherworldly.

It was like every time you were hit the world righted. Everything aligned. Every bad feeling you had disappeared in an instance – because you were doing well. You were doing good and Kylo was enjoying it.

And everything felt like a blissful dream.

“You stopped counting”

“No” You sigh, your bottom lip starting to shake. “I’ll start again” when you brush your face you feel the water on your cheeks. “I’ll do it again. I’m sorry”

He sits you up, causing you to sit on your ruined backside and flinch.

“Hey” he holds your face like last night “Look at me” whatever he’s seeing in your eyes must grate on his conscience. “You’ve done perfectly. No more for today”

“But i-“

“ _No more.”_ he pulls you against his chest, holding you softly on the floor of the room. “Brat”

When the tears came, you didn’t know why you were crying, from the pain on your body or the thought brewing in your mind.

That you would let this villain haunt you for the rest of your life.


	8. Chains Excite Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill - this is my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> All your comments and message are like my nectar, I hate my writing sometimes but you guys are my fuel.  
> What's crazy is that this fic now has over 100 kudos and 'We're Making Vibration' (My Reylo fic) has over 200. I really did not expect a response like this!
> 
> So thank you! I love you!

_Lovers._

It felt like you were lovers.

Over the night he applied bacta where he hit you, taking too much time for it to _just_ be for medical purposes. You wanted to make a joke about him feeling you up while on the job, but your mouth seemed to be forged shut, words trapped in your throat.

He had to succumb to sleep at some point. And he did so, nestled around your body, holding your back close to his chest. His hand often twitched at your waist where he held you, overcome with some dream. Or a nightmare.

You could tell he did not sleep well.

Though, neither would you if the success of the First Order was constantly riding on your back.

When the morning came, your dazed mind seemed to return with it. When you sit up in the bed, your eyes blurry with exhaustion, Kylo is sitting at a small table – cutting up pears.

“You’re finally awake” he slides a few slices of pair on a separate plate.

“Sit. Eat” he kicks the chair opposite him.

And they say chivalry is dead.

Your feet pad across the wooden floor, legs bare in the warm sun. He doesn’t look at you until you sit down. Mainly because you wince heavily at the burn on your butt cheeks.

“Hurting?” he’s smirking when he says, slipping a piece of pear in-between his lips.

You take the pear of his plate - just to be petty. You lick a piece, watching his eyes drag down the line of juice on your lips, before biting it in half.

He watches your throat swallow with the intensity of a scholar reading a text – analysing, understanding, and dosed with curiosity.

You like the juice of your fingers and smile cockily. “There’s barely a mark”

He reaches a finger to your lips, rubbing away anything left. “Don’t make me rectify that”

“Why?” You rub your foot against his thigh. You were overwhelmed with a strong sense of joy. Here, in some hotel room, with morning sun and Kylo looking soft in the golden light. “I enjoyed it”

You didn’t say that you would have enjoyed it more if you came.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy a punishment-” he poured you some orange juice “-that would encourage bad behaviour”

“Oh” you sigh, trying to avoid the disappointed tone “Right”

It wasn’t like you lacked information in sex. But, your education – as per First Order standards – was sex for procreation. The idea is that you wouldn’t have the time for pleasure or relationships. Instead, you could breed the next line of First Order recruits. Only when they said so – of course. All recruits were subjected to contraceptive injections, until ‘ _stated otherwise’_. Meaning: when they were no longer useful in their job and could serve better as a baby-making machine. No sexual imagery was allowed, and you were subjected to humiliation if you dared to masturbate in the dorms.

Not that it stopped anyone.

The problem with restrictions like these is that someone always worked around it. Porn was distributed like currency and raunchy magazines like gold. You may not have time for each other, but you had time for your own hands and the latest holovid.

Which is how you understood Kylo. You didn’t have the knowledge he had, but you knew what he was. Dominant. Constantly in the need for control. And you-

-You liked that.

You just didn’t know what you were. How you fit into his sexual deviancy. Part of you wondered what he would call you, what did he think of you? How did he see you?

“Maybe I should change it-” he was as relaxed as he could be, leaning back in his chair. “-You seem like you need a heavier hand”

You smiled around your cup. “I think your hand was plenty heavy”

“Not for what you need”

“Need?” you enquire.

“We’ll talk about It another time”

You let your eyes wander. The room was large, bathed in light from a wall of windows and monochrome decoration.

“We’re in a hotel next to the Casino” Kylo had been watching your eyes “I bought you here after…”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence. You knew what you did. Any reminder would be like a harsh slap in the face.

“Right. Anything from our Twi’lek _friend_?” you brushed your feet on the floor, enjoying a change of subject. The mission seemed to be slipping your mind more and more.

“The man we’re looking for has been spotted in Naboo before, she thinks he has living quarters there. Best place to start”

“Seems like an odd place to hide. Naboo is…”

Luscious. Bright. Peaceful.

Barely even discussed. Since the scattering of battles there, Naboo has barely been spoken about. It seemed to delve in obscurity and neither Resistance nor First Order has attempted to control it.

“ A lot of bare terrain” he considers, “Mountain areas, places to hide. And maybe he thought like you did…”

“…That no one would think to look in Naboo” He rubs his chin, his mind otherwise absent.

Jeninne had dropped off some more clothing for each of you. Which would explain the Commander's black sweater and jeans – a soft look for a man on a bounty hunt. She had left you a nude-coloured ensemble, all soft lines, and melding into your skin. You change in the fresher, enjoying the feeling of new clothes and soft linen.

You were also thankful to be wearing trousers. Having bare legs made you feel like a temptress. And things have already become too tempting.

When you enter the main room, Kylo is placing his lightsabre hilt under his shirt, tucked neatly away from prying eyes. What’s weirder was his stance, he was holding himself tense with his eyes closes, breathing steady.

“I’m using the force to sense people”

You stutter some unrecognisable words, he can sense you as well. “I didn’t ask”

“You seemed uncomfortable by my actions”

“Curious. Not uncomfortable”

“I’d to avoid citizens if we can” he understands your silence, and when he turns to look at you it’s with a studious eye“ It’s sensing for warmth. A beacon of life”

“I understand. Sometimes I swear I could tell where you were on the ship-“ you pick up a leaflet on the bedside table“-did you know this place has a spa!”

“Say that again”

“What?”

He’s invested now. He turns around and grips your arms. “About the ship”

“Oh-” you shrug, explaining that your mind was perpetually searching for him wasn’t a good idea “-I knew where you were on the ship….i could just tell”

“How?”

“I don’t know”

“Try” you could detect the curiosity in his voice. He grips your chin, pulling your head up till you have no choice but to make eye contact. “Try to explain it to me”

“You seem to be very interested in this” you smirk, eyes dropping to plush of his top lip. He pulls you any closer and you could bite it.

Shutters seem to cloud his eyes, once more the Commander rather than the man. “The interest of a Superior”

“Oh really?-” you move your face bringing it into the crux of his neck. Slowly, but hopefully, with sex appeal, you drag your tongue up the side of his neck. You mouth softly at his pulse point, suckling with newfound determination. “-Not just interested in me?”

His pulse jumps when you suck his skin particularly hard, but his hands hold you closer, making no move to push you away.

“I will not be seduced” his voice is tainted with humour, and the brush of his thumb under your top has you flushed with need.

He wants to be seduced.

He doesn’t have to say it for you to feel it.

“Shame” You smile against his neck, when he brings his face closer to yours, his nose nudging his cheek.

Your words delve into a whisper, while your eyes only see his lips.

“ _Guess I’ll have to try harder”_

His top lip brushes yours, both of you breathing into the small space between your mouths.

This was when you would finally pass that line. The space that hasn’t been touched by either of you. Where everything becomes _more._

A small metallic sound drags you away from him.

A circular disk had been pushed under the door.

“What is that?” you say, looking over Kylo’s shoulder.

When he turns, the disk hisses, and slowly opens at the top.

_“Move!”_ he grabs your waist, moving you into the fresher.

Rather than the extreme weapon Kylo had been expecting, the disk seems to spin for a moment, waiting for some non-existent order. Then five syringes open at the top releasing a green gas.

“Commander, it’s not a bomb” You grab his hand.

Running for the door seems to be a better idea than hiding in the bathroom.

You dart for the door, Kylo hot on your heels when the disk opens.

Exploding into a massive smokescreen.

It pushes into your throat and it makes your eyes tear. Your eyes are watering and you can’t see. Kylo is lost in the smoke but you can hear coughing.

Something hits the back or knee and you realise your spinning.

No, not spinning.

Falling.

* * *

Your body wasn’t touching the floor.

Not even your feet.

“ _Don’t look down_ ”

Your head is lulling, eyes blurry, like you were underwater.

“ _Do not look down, Lieutenant_ ”

The words feel like liquid, painful in your ears, pushing against the eardrum with piercing pain. Coming to was like breaking the surf. Your eyes tear and when you open them you're looking at thirty feet drop.

“Holy shit” you whisper.

Your hands are in stun cuffs, suspended on a thick chain, hanging from the ceiling.

“Holy shit!”

A voice strains behind you. “I heard you the first time”

When you look up, you see the hanging chain splits into two, allowing you to swing around. But also-

“ _Holy shit!”_

-allowing you to face Kylo.

Normally you would find joy in his despondent nature, but the sight of Kylo hanging by his hands put a damper on your rescue.

_Holy shit._

Kylo’s pristine sweater has been ripped – looking as though it had been dragged across razors- and his face was scratched along the left side. He’s burning with rage. His face tense and saturated with concealed anger, hands straining against your restraints, as though they would break if he believed it enough.

“I thought you said you were sensing for people in the hotel?!” you kick your legs “How did you miss whoever was outside the door?!”

“I was-“ he takes a deep breath, a small wound on his side opening slightly “-otherwise engaged”

“Fuck” you sigh, looking around you’re in a cylinder room. No windows, one door, and a few electric lights. The door is at the end of a metal plank, most likely where they tied you up before they cranked up the metal chain.

There’s no natural light and it smelt slightly damp.

“We’re underground,” you say.

Kylo grunts in approval. “Most likely”

“Can’t you use your force powers or _something?”_

The Commander gives you a dirty look for that, before lifting his head to look at the cuffs. Which are glowing with purple electricity.

“Clone wars tech-” his abs struggle against each breath “-My _force powers_ are out of commission” he sasses.

In fairness, keeping you alive was smart of your capturers. More chance for a payoff. Killing Kylo wouldn’t be worth it; he could pay a fair sum for their co-operation.

Although, you suspected they’d be dead before they touched the credits.

You hear the brush of air, and when you spin to face the plank, the door is opened.

First Order training prepares you for interrogation, torture, and the possibility of death. It also taught you to know your enemy. When a group of men shoulder through the door, their face non-existent and replaced with red cybernetic armour, you could recognize them anywhere.

You knew that robotic look.

_Guavian Death Gang._

They didn’t side with anyone in the war.

Which meant that negotiation was out the picture.

And that you were _fucked_.

Their soldiers were aggressive, fast, and armed with more black-market weaponry than you could imagine.

They would have taken Kylo’s weapon and you didn’t have Bartholomew.

Things weren’t looking great.

A man steps forward, dressed in militaria garb.

He’s Trandoshan. Except rather than the powerful humanoids of myth, he seemed to be infected by a growing disease. His is skin bulging with pustules, puffy and round. His neck is slightly swollen and moving in a gelatinous manner, his skin pinched by tight neck armour. He allowed his tongue to lick out of his mouth – sharp and aggressive- rubbing the points of his teeth.

“Welcome-” he gestures to your cement prison, one of the growths on his arm wriggling “-we haven’t had guests in a while. Especially, not such prestigious ones. How was your time in the Casino? Decadent I hope-“he coughs on the last word, hacking a ball of blue mucus that has your insides curling. 

The orange of his eyes seems to revel in your form, like you were a piece of rotisserie meat, as he clears his throat. “Our _friends_ on Vandor-“

“Go fuck yourself you overgrown limp node!” you interrupted; you weren’t interested in hearing some elaborate monologue.

“-told us about a missing freighter containing members of the First Order-” He continues. He finds more interest in Kylo than you. Misogynist. “Imagine finding the _all-mighty_ Kylo Ren and his-“ he gestures at you with one claw “-whore?”

Unfortunately, all your wiggling has made you spin, the chains rocking you in a small circle. You waited until you spun a full circle before you shouted again.

“You slut-shaming, scaly ass, weasel!”

“Cute” you kick your legs, trying to spin just a tiny bit more so you can spit in the assholes face. “She’s got quite a bark on her” his voice is slimy, full of hatred and – hopefully – fluid.

He can choke on it.

“Put me down and I’ll show you my bite is worse”

He has a shrill laugh, snorting on each chuckle. Saliva catches in the mouth, causing him to splutter on another mucus ball.

“I do not think…that you should speak to me that way” he takes a deep breath, walking to the end of the pier. He gestures to one of his men holding a keypad. You didn’t catch what he inserted, but it lowered the chain slightly. Allowing your slimy captor to look at you easier.

He’s uglier up close.

“You do not exactly have the upper hand-“he tuts, acting like a father scolding a disobedient child “-I know a few criminal syndicates that would pay well for an ass like yours”

You feel the hot breath on your neck.

“I suggest-“ Kylo says, low against your ear “-that you choose your next words verycarefully”

The reptilian embodiment of the flu gives you a salacious smile. The point of his tongue just peeking out of the rows and rows of teeth.

“And I suggest that you enjoy your time together-” he scoffs, signaling to one of his men, who had you chain pulled higher “-People will pay a lot of money for your head, _Commander_ ”

* * *

They had left you for an hour when you started to go mad.

The guard with the keypad was left behind, keeping an eye on the electrical currents running around your wrists, but otherwise disinterested.

You , however , had done two hundred spins, using your chain like a makeshift swing. Each circle driving you closer to a mental break.

“So, since we’re here… do you want to talk about your feelings?”

Kylo let out an – almost silent- chuckle. But when you spin to face him his face is controlled.

“No?” you mock, and he shakes his head. Seemingly accepting of your constant drivel.

“Okay. What type of music do you like? Are you an opera fan? You seem like an opera fan. Or maybe something really _moody._ What’s your favourite food? I like fritzle fries” your voice is dusted with hysteria.

“Lieutenant-” Kylo is calm, measured. Taking steady breathes that you try to copy. “-I’m starting to wonder how you have lived so long”

Luck. Skill. Whichever one seems to work.

You breathe out a laugh, which is slightly painful down your stretched chest. “Only the good die young”

“Guess we’re lucky then”

“Are you agreeing that I’m not good?” you hear him scoff “Don’t answer that”

“Just trying to bond during our shared death row” you sigh.

A distraction.

You wanted a distraction. Something that doesn’t make you wonder about being sold into sexual slavery or another victim of trafficking.

Or being alone. Again.

Kylo didn’t seem over despondent about hanging from the rafters. Rather, he was unaffected by the fact that you were being held like fish on a rod. His eyes roamed your face, watching your distress with a flat expression.

You wanted to kick him.

_Collected jackass_.

“…Do you remember it…your life before the First Order?” he coaxed, drawing on some deep part of his soul to pretend to enjoy conversation.

“Parts. Here and there.” You swallow the pain down the dry channel of your throat. “The water mainly. A river, I think. I remember being hungry and hot”

you didn’t mention the taste of the dirt. The feeling of being so desperate for food that you chewed on mint leaves and gnawed on tree bark. Or the freezing needles of freshwater and the cuts on your knees from scrapping them on rocks. You couldn’t say that you had no name, no worth, no material possessions. “I don’t remember where I’m from or my family. But considering I was abandoned, alone…. maybe it’s a good thing”

No last name.

No birthday.

“For all I know, I could be older than you” you smile sadly, your body swaying with the chains.

“No, you have too much energy,” he says it like an insult, but it feels like a compliment.

Your lips turn up. “I could age well”

“And your life in the First Order?”

“What about it?”

You knew what he was asking. Whether you hated it, whether you were happier with them than on your own. And if you were honest, anything was better than starvation.

“I mean… it’s fine” you roll your eyes “Training was hard…. the food's shit. As long as you follow orders, you’re fine”

As long as you follow orders you don’t get killed

“And if you don’t?”

“Don’t be naïve” you scoff.

“I don’t spend a lot of time looking at the education of our members”

No, the great Kylo ren would never lower himself to understand the technicalities of officer training. His training was different. Remote and separated from everyone besides the Knights of Ren.

But Kylo was not replaceable, you were.

“…We had this _thing-“_ you hoover around the words, you cannot forget that you work for the man in front of you. When you look at him, however, his face is free of judgment.

“-We just called it ‘the box’. It was really small, when they put you in it you could barely fit. Then they’d attach these tubes to the outside and suck all the oxygen out until there’s just enough so that you don’t pass out.”

“They would leave you there” he nods, not needing your confirmation. A wave of understanding passes between the two of you. As though he had felt the hands of torture to. “-Did you get put in there a lot?”

“Only when I was still a child-” you smile softly “- I learned my lesson fast”

“You do.”

“What?”

“Learn fast” the way he says it is stunted, but he’s trying. For that, you can’t help but grin.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Yes,” he says it with so much certainty that your heart jumps. It was not a through away comment or a forced statement. Considering how much you had messed up in the past few days you were expecting some…rebuttal. Maybe an aggressive scorning.

_Well, the punishment is technically over._

“You got a plan, to save us from being sold?”

“Yes,” he says, the exact amount of certainty as before.

“Fantastic”

* * *

This plan was not fantastic. 

It hung on a lot of ‘ _maybes’_ and more luck than talent.

Which is exactly why Kylo told you to do it. It anyone was living based on luck – it was you.

Your single guard was carrying the cuffs keypad. All you had to do was get him close enough to the edge of the ramp, have Kylo push you with his legs, and grab the guy with your thighs.

Easy.

Not insane at all.

“Hey!” you shout, causing the guards red mask to observed you “I’ll make a deal with your boss. I’ll give him all the info he wants in exchange for my freedom.”

For a moment you forgot that Guavians don’t talk, instead, he makes an aggressive gesture with his hands. He wants to know what you have to offer.

“Well I’m not going to shout what I know-” you give a faux look of anxiety “-What I’ve learned today is that you never know who is listening. Come closer”

His head dips between the edge of the walkway and you.

“I’m attached to a chain. Relax”

You can feel Kylo’s’ feet moving to the center of your back. Ready and waiting.

_Honestly, this is ridiculous._

The guard meets the end of the walkway, giving you the same gestures as earlier.

“Yeah” you smile, “I lied”

Kylo pushes your back, with all the strength you expect of the Commander. You swing. You wrap your legs around the guard’s neck and when you fall back, he falls with you.

“Kylo!” you shout, your grip slipping slightly. Holding dead weight between your legs wasn’t an easy feat. He’s gripping your thighs tight and the weight of him is hard to hold. You had not considered how much ab strength would be required for this.

_I miss desk duty._

Kylo gives him the ultimatum. “I’ll give you five seconds to lower us to the ground. Or she drops you to your death”

_This was a mistake._

“One”

“Two” he is clawing at your thighs, trying to find purchase, while you grit your teeth against his grip.

He sinks his nails into your legs. “ _Kylo,_ ” you say with clenched teeth.

“Three”

This is the longest you’ve had a person between your legs who wasn’t naked.

“Four”- the Commander says, finding joy in the guards swinging legs. “-How long do you think your hands can hold on for once she unwraps her legs?”

Your legs better be wrapped around Kylo’s neck later to be worth this.

“Fi-“

The chain shudders a few inches down.

Kylo gives you a look. It holds no emotion but contains a message. When we hit the floor, you can’t let go.

The chain drops suddenly, your back hitting the ground with the sound of broken porcelain.

You tighten your legs around the guard. “Don’t fucking think so”

With Kylo’s nod, you let go. He holds the slack of the chain, wraps it around the guard’s neck and pulls. You could hear the rasp of metal scratching.

_Watching someone die shouldn’t be so satisfying._

You grab the keypad, place it on the floor, and slam the side of the cuffs on it. The scratching sound of the guard’s feet and Kylo’s breathing creates a sycophantic rhythm, while you hit the keypad in tandem. It breaks on one, which seems to do the trick and the cuffs deactivated.

_This will go down in history as one of the most anticlimactic escapes of the First Order._

Kylo had dropped the guard’s body, rubbing at his wrists in small circular motions. On the floor, you could see that there was a small set of built-in doors beneath the metal walkway. Meaning: you were ship bound.

“We’re getting my lightsabre”

Or not.

You moan, dragging your body up from the floor. “Can’t you just make another one?”

The look he gave was a definite _no._

Even though your back was sore, and you weren’t interested in finding his big boy glowstick – it wasn’t up for debate. He grabs your arms ushering you through the twin doors.

The hallways were empty. This obviously wasn’t a main base of operation.

Kylo starts meandering the hallways like he knows where he is going. And he probably does.

_Some force mind trick_ , you thought, _maybe man and weapon speak to each other._

You enter a dingy room, the light coming through in low panels. You hear dripping somewhere – probably from a bad plumbing job- and on the wall was the Commanders lightsabre.

Displayed like a museum piece.

“Uh dude, it’s on the wall” you chuff.

Kylo was already reaching for it, pulling it off its perch.

Your eyes wander the walls because Kylo’s lightsabre wasn’t the only one there. There were multiple sabres, held up like a monument to the dead. Or a monument to their successes.

“It’s like some creepy shrine,” you say, brushing your hand over a lightsabres hilt.

“This belongs to me” he ignites his sabre with some dark fever “and now they’ll know what happens when they steal from me”

“Or-“ you wave your hands to the door “-We could leave”

“Little fool-” he brushes your face with his thumb, it comes away covered in blood. You didn’t even realise you were bleeding “-I take whatever I want, and I want their heads”

In these few days, you had forgotten who he was. How he spoke to you when you first met.

This was a reminder.

He could take anything he wanted.

He had already taken you.

Now he would take their lives.

He takes a left out of the room, spinning his sabre in casual circles, that are dizzyingly bright in the dark hallways.

Every time he storms off you feel like a baby duckling following mummy duck. Straight to a lake of blood.

He turns, chooses a door, and kicks it down.

_Drama king._

Their lizard leader isn’t there, but the entirety of his cyber guards are.

Kylo shrugs, “Hope I’m not interrupting”

Kylo swings with his lightsabre with power and dexterity, bring it through the closest guard with a downwards swing. It was beautifully powerful and the darkest part of you wanted to sit back and watch.

Not that you would have a chance.

The guard nearest to you diverts his aim from Kylo, instead of grabbing the back of your head, throwing you on the floor.

Without any regard for fighting etiquette, you swing your leg up. Right into his crotch. Guavains are silent in battle, but the buckle of his knees show that it hurt.

You just wished you could hear his agony.

Guavians, however, are breed for this. Made to fight, to kill and subdue. He swings his elbow into your stomach, which has a bright bloom of pain erupting in your abdomen. You fall back and his fist aims straight into your gut. 

Shots and shot keep coming. You bring your arms up against the onslaught.

But he was stronger and fast. Built on adrenaline.

Your groaning, your voice subdued by the sound of the hits on your body. Kylo couldn’t be seen and one of your hands couldn’t be felt. Your attack grips your throat, hauling you up against the wall behind you.

That’s when everything slows. You can feel the piercing heat you remember from the Finalizer. That molten feeling in your spine. It had moved, encircling your chest and feeding through your veins.

All you had to do was let it free.

It was like opening a locked door.

You turned the key and the power burst forth like a breaking dam. You could see it like you were watching from afar. The way your attackers metal face breaks inwards, indenting like it’s been hit, the way his body flies into the opposite wall. His body hitting the metal with such force that it leaves a dent.

You were shaking. When you extract yourself from your space against the wall, you look for Kylo. He has his sabre through another guard's head. But, he’s watching you.

They were dead. You were alive. Body strumming with the thrill.

He sheaths his weapon.

Your eyes meet, the sweat on his brow slipping down his cheek.

The feeling of what you had done, it pierces the tips of your fingers, spinning circles in your palm. You close your hand like you could pull the power into you. Keep it in your chest.

His stare is a blast into your mind.

An unsettling thing.

,

He comes forward, holding your cheek in his palm with the same warmth as last night. But it was different. It was a meeting of similar creatures. Of a two that share something more powerful than themselves.

A burden of power.

A twin flame.

A joining of souls.

The kiss that comes is sharp and biting.

_It is very inconvenient to be made of desire. To feel it well up like a burning breath._

He pulls at your lips like a man starved. Biting and pulling trying to absorb you into him. The air is sharp, and you barely had time to breathe before he is on you. Owning you, again and again, and again.

You are saturated with him. Drowning in a violent wind of desire, his lips pulling at yours as though he had never tasted a delicacy like it. No art could ever express this moment's virality, how deep and dark it pulled at your soul, how it dredged up feelings you had never felt.

In your heart, there is a vigil only to him

Each touch is poison.

Each brush of your cheek is a burn.

Each lick of your lips is a slaughter.

It promotes you to darkness.

_Very inconvenient to be made of desire._

For a soul that felt you so broken, he ravished you like he was finally whole. Like you were a missing piece to a puzzle long forgotten.

His arms wrapped around your waist. Pulling you so close that your chest could barely move with each deep breath. The onslaught of his lips is so painful and so beautiful that your heart swells against the tandem.

When he stops to breathe, he holds his forehead against yours.

Both of you panting in the black hulls.

_Desire._

He sighed into the air between your mouths. “That was-“

“Yeah. It was” you agreed.

He cleared his throat. “We should-“

“Yeah.” You agree. Again.

He presses his lips against yours. Chaste and innocent. A contradiction to the sea of bodies surrounding you. His hands are bloody, leaving a line down your cheek, that he smudges back and forth on your cheekbone.

You think he liked you covered in blood.

* * *

Kylo wanted to go reptile hunting, but you made the decision this time. Heading towards what you hoped was the exit. It turned out the entrance was near to the hotel, just a hatch down into the underground sewer network, and your jail-esque bunker.

You made your way back to ship with swiftness, avoiding as many people as you could in the light of day.

Suddenly, everyone became the enemy.

No one was guarding the Freighter – meaning that the ones Kylo killed must have been their only fighting force.

_A massacre,_ you thought. _I should feel more guilty about it._

JD-1 comes squealing at you when you open the door, diving at your legs with an aggressive ‘ _wheeeee’._

“Woah! -” you raise your hands in mock surrender “-It’s us”

JD-1 wheels around your feet, chirping in an exaggerated manner, while Kylo heads to the pilot seat. When you bend down to pat his head, you see he has something in his little hand.

A knife.

“When did you get a knife young man?” you scolded.

His little wheels stop their excited rolling. He looks at the knife and shrugs, then he runs.

_He knows he’s in trouble the little shit._

“Do not wheel away from me!” the sound of your voice bounces off the ship’s walls, as JD-1 makes a sweeping escape towards his tiny room.

He – mockingly- presses his metallic arm against the airlock.

“Don’t you dare shut that- “

The door slams shut.

“We’re talking about this in the morning!”

_Cheeky bastard._

You sit in the co-pilot seat, taking time to lean into the chair. It felt like home after that.

“That droid almost stabbed me with a knife. I could have died twice today” You laugh, but it sounds tired to your own ears.

“We have a lot we need to discuss,” he said, jaw tensing.

A lot would be an understatement; the kiss, how you used the force, the fact that you killed someone today.

You were hoping you could bury the problems until – eventually- they went away

“Yeah,” you say, what else could you say?

“But first-“ he reaches under a section of the control panel and passes you a holoprojector. Your bounties holoprojector. “-memorise it”

He didn’t have to show you this. It wasn’t about helping you in the mission-

You flick the projector on.

-It was about trust.

Which you were about to ruin.

Because you knew that face.

You had danced with that face.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Readers Outfit Inspiration](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d9/e9/7b/d9e97bbf592643c97e8773a89f07dbc6.jpg)


	9. Wet, Wet, Wet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> Welcome to my sinful fanfic - I hate myself. 
> 
> Enjoy!

His name is Hellford. Hellford Do’Marshell.

Petty thief turned mass assassin by the looks of things.

But this was no Resistance spy. This was someone dark and deadly. Scrolling through the images there were countless photos of dead bodies, First Order and citizens alike, ripped apart like paper. You gag when the image of a child appears, trachea pulled through her neck, hanging down like a small worm. Piles and piles of dead stormtroopers litter a First Order facility, necks broken at a disjointed angle.

Brutal, animalistic cruelty.

This man had touched your back and danced you through a crowd. He’d called you ‘Sweetheart’ and taught you how to waltz. Sure, he had given you drugs, but casual drug user doesn’t equal mass murderer.

The monsters are the ones who look like princes.

You wanted to tell Kylo. This man had seen you, spoken to you, it wouldn’t be crazy to think that he knew who you were. Maybe even knew where you were going.

But he might have no idea who you were. He could have just been interested in the baby aristocrat at the bar.

And thus, you’ve done nothing wrong – logically. 

Plus, all of this could have been avoided if Kylo had shown you the bounty in the first place. So, whose fault was it really? The more you thought about the more you lacked guilt. This wasn’t your fault, it was just an odd coincidence, a menagerie of happenstances — everything was fine. Well, not fine, but Kylo would never need to know.

Right. Perfect. It was decided; you won’t tell Kylo about Hellford, he’ll —hopefully — capture Hellford on Naboo and you can all go home winners.

_As long as Hellford keeps his mouth shut. Fuck._

You rubbed your temple, digging into your head with the edge of your nails. There was always something else to think about, something else to plague your mind, something else to burden your conscience. Everything was happening too fast. The mission and you and Kylo’s weird sexual attraction - too fast.

Kylo was flying you to Bothawui, a place to refuel and rest before heading to Naboo. He already requested a landing space in the metropolitan area, however, you were going to move the ship during the night – anyone could have heard about Kylo Ren’s freighter space adventure. And people talk.

but you really hope they don't. 

* * *

When he lands you in Bothawui, it’s dusty and warm, the morning sun rearing its head. Neither of you had slept or washed, blood still coating your cheek and Kylo’s dark clothes. On Bothawui, however, you could get away with anything if you were careful enough. He sets the ship down on a fuelling station, high on a white slated building, other ships dipping in and out.

He opens the hatch and storms out to fuel the ship. You, on the other hand, sit on the ramp with JD-1 enjoying humid haze.

It was as though a storm was brewing — wet and warm.

JD-1 runs in and out of stationary ships, bringing back anything he finds on the floor – small bolts, pieces of scrap metal, and coins. You give him a little bag to carry it in, like he was a little magpie gathering things to build a nest. He offers you a shining rock.

“For me?” you point at yourself and he ‘ _beeps’_ in delights. It’s a small, white rock but the feeling is there. You scratch the top of his head in thanks and he whirrs off to pick up more souvenirs. You keep your eye on him, like you’re monitoring a small child.

He spins too fast a one point, knocking into a gas attendants’ legs.

“Sorry!” you shout “He’s over-excited about….everything!”

He puts his hand up, acknowledging your apology. He’s early twenties, all curly hair and light freckles. He’s blushing slightly. Probably from the dusty heat in those overalls. His skin was already reddening. He smiles when you meet his eyes and you grin, enjoying the sense of normalcy.

Kylo finishes fuelling and you call JD-1 over, whistling to get his attention. He wobbles his way back, with his squeaky wheels and bag of stuff, brushing your leg as he goes up the ramp.

Kylo’s shoulders are tense, his ripped sweater swaying in the wind.

“Everything okay?” you say, eyes scanning the ships for anything suspect.

“Get in”

_Always the wordsmith._

* * *

He brings the Freighter back down on small hill, far past any civilisation, a sandy path leading down into a hidden beach. It was stunningly ethereal, bright, and calm. The waves light and inviting.

Kylo’s attitude, however, was the exact opposite.

You waited until JD-1 headed to his little room to charge his battery before you said anything.

The Commander stands to leave, left eye twitching with concealed emotion.

“Okay! What is your deal?” you say, grabbing his arm to haul yourself up “you’ve been tense and angsty all morning. Now, I understand things have been shitty, but you said we had things to talk about, but we haven’t talked about anything!”

Your chest was heaving with the restrained attitude.

“Do not speak to me like that” he growled; tone low “You forget your place”

You’d gotten away with it so far.

The blistering reminder of your inferiority has you grinding your teeth anyway. Every time he tries to reprimand you, he always draws on his authority, but you weren’t weak or meagre.

“Oh right” you scoff “underneath you”

You catch yourself, realising how what you said could be misconstrued.

Your face flushes with the implication. Kylo catches it as well, the dark of his eyes alighting with pleasure. What he doesn’t say with his mouth, he can say with a look. This look was filled with desire and opportunity. You gave him an opening and he would take it.

He wasn’t tense or angsty – he was horny.

He backs you up against the wall, bringing his lips to your neck, much like you did in the hotel room. Your breath hitches as he drags his lips over your exposed collarbone. So light and unhurried.

He was taking his time to enjoy you.

And your annoyance was starting to disappear.

Your breathing was shallow when he bought his lips to your ear, kissing the shell. His next words made you keen, just a whisper in the warm day.

“ _Exactly where you should be_ ”

His roaming hands clench under your thighs and you were lifted. Holding on to his shoulders like you could bring his body into yours, you wrap your legs around his waist, dragging the rough line of his abs against your cunt. There is a dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you release a dirty groan. He’s grinding against you. Soft panting in your ear.

It’s a testament to his brute-like strength when he removes one of the hands holding you to run it under your top. Just bushing the bare skin of your abdomen. Each rub of his thumb a sickening temptation.

“Take it off” he muttered, tongue dipping in the crevice of your collarbone.

Suddenly —overwhelmed with shyness— you shake your head. He has not seen you fully bare, you had always found some way of covering yourself. Baring your body to him would be so open, stripping every layer you put between yourselves.

_It was intimate._

“I don’t—“ you stutter.

He nips at your shoulder, a warning. “And I don’t ask twice”

An order.

He holds your weight, watching your hands shake at the edge of the caramel jumper. You pull it off slowly, watching his eyes burn at each scrap of bare skin, shrugging over your shoulders and onto the metal floor.

He gives your chest bindings a filthy look; you rip them off too.

Kylo brings his mouth to the middle of your chest enjoying the bare skin. Viciously, you grab his hair and pull, Kylo groans unhappily.

“I’m still not happy with your attitude” you say, your confidence wavering with every word.

You feel his teeth against your sternum, a ghost of a smile; dangerous and sharp.

“You’ve done enough talking” he peppers kisses over your skin leisurely “the only words I want to hear from your mouth are ‘please’ or ‘yes, Commander’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you” you snarl.

He grins. Nothing’s changed, he still delights in your anger.

_Asshole._

His grip tightens as he walks you down the hall. He stops once, to slam you harshly against the ship's window, dragging his lips over yours. It wasn’t like the kiss on Canto – a flighty, adrenaline-fuelled thing- it was a promise.

A promise of _more._

He fumbles trying to hit the airlock on the bedroom door, his nails digging into your thighs to keep you still. You sigh, enjoying biting pain blossoming along your thighs. It reminds you of Canto – the savage marks and the ruthless attack on your body.

Kylo feels it too, grunting when you grind up against him.

The airlock releases, letting you into the compact bedroom. A cramped menagerie of furniture. You had forgotten how small this ship was. The bed was smaller than a double, a creaky, rickety, mess of sheets, and metal frame.

_Surely, it wouldn’t hold both your weight_.

The Commander wasn’t fazed – was he ever? – and threw you down on the bed. You let out an “ _oof!”_ as you fell back, head hitting the pillows. He’s pulling at your shoes and trousers before you have time to take a breath, the springs creaking with every movement.

The conflict of his need to have you now - and his urge to take his time - was stirring. Brewing a sultry thrill as his hands caress every bare inch of your leg.

He was throwing you around like a puppet.

Not to be beaten, you lift yourself, grabbing the back of his sweater and pulling it over his head. A wound had opened on his side, smearing blood on the side of your stomach.

You don’t imagine the way he’s eyes darken looking at it.

It should be repellent – it’s not.

He drags his hand over the mess, rubbing it into your pores, then rips the seam of your panties until they’re pieces of scrap.

You had been naked for lovers before, more times than you could count, but the heat burning over your body, his eyes raking through every inch of your skin like he could see right through it and into where the butterflies have seated in your stomach; it was what truly being bare felt like.

“You’ll like what I give you—” he says, drawing a nipple into his mouth.

He wasn’t vanilla with his touch. He bites your nipple, causing you to hiss and arch onto his mouth, his tongue soothing the ache. His other hand had moved to the other nipple, rubbing with the rough pad of his thumb.

The friction was rough; it didn’t stop you from being thrilled with the attention.

“take what I give you—” he whispers against your breast, hastily seeking the other nipple to suckle.

He swirls his tongue, lavishing your body with passion. His hands are rubbing the inner skin of thighs, never moving close to where you need them, dancing on the soft muscle.

He bites that nipple and you fling your head back with a wanton moan. “And you’ll thank me for it”

He leans back to watch you.

“Because I’ll always give you what you want” he says, tone intense. Your body goes pliant and he watches your cunt with a primitive eye. Watching. Remembering.

Kylo pushes his thumb along the wet line of your folds, watching your pussy gleam with unrelenting desire.

Then he smiles .

He brings the palm of his hand down on your pussy; an aggressive slap which has you arching against him. It was cruel, painful and so good that you want to cry. He’s watching you when he brings his hand down again. You jump, groaning in delicious torture.

_It hurt. Fuck, it hurt._

He always answers your unsaid prayers, knows how to twist and turn you, until you can only remember the way he feels. No one will touch you like does, not one will bring you to the edge like he does – and he knows it.

“You like that” he grunts. You finally notice that he’s palming his dick through his jeans, rubbing it to thick hardness. Your mouth could still remember the taste of his cum, the feel of each thick vein on your tongue, and your heart stirred with the memory.

You liked it. Liked the way he slapped your cunt, liked the way he touches himself, liked the way he adores watching you – unpolished and naked.

And you specifically liked his dick in your mouth.

_No,_ you thought, _you should resist this._

“Will this how it will be now?” you bite, watching the way his chest heaves with restraint “You thinking you can have me whenever you want?”

He smirks, like you said some ingenious joke at your own expense, and he brings a hand to your chin, caressing it in a way that could be romantic.

Before he leans over and spits in your open mouth.

He holds your mouth shut, forcing you to swallow everything he gave you. Despite resistance, it has your cunt clenching around nothing, a soft heartbeat pounding in your pussy.

It was filthy, disgusting and you wanted more.

“I could always have you whenever I want” he grunts, watching a string of his spit slip down the corner of your mouth “You always wanted this and now you’ll learn to accept the consequences”

He grinds his jean-covered package against you, watching your pussy slip on the material. You keen, pushing against losing all resistance so some overwhelming urge to let him fuck you.

“Look at yourself” he sighs “begging for my cock with blood on your face”

He rubs the blood cheek and you blush with the thrum of pleasure of pleasing him.

“ _Dirty slut_ ”

Without warning, he brushes your right thigh —with a rough and dirty hand —and buries his face between your legs.

This was the only time you could be unhurried, fully uninterrupted before your intergalactic tryst came to an end — he knew this. Dragging his tongue through your folds with a relaxed demeanour and no care for your desperate pleas of ‘ _more’_ and ‘ _please’._ Rather, he rolls the tip of his tongue over your bud of nerves, just exploring your cunt with the confidence of a man who had done his fair share of exploration.

Your whimpering – pathetically- your legs shuddering against the onslaught.

“Please“ your voice pitches when he brings your clit into his mouth, eyes burning with knowledge that he was taunting you. “Please, Commander”

You bite back a hushed scream when he wraps his lips around your clit and _sucks_. His tongue pounding at your pussy the way you like it – steady, hard, filthy. He’s eating you out like he’d been waiting for this, like it was the last meal on death row, special and to be savoured.

The rhythmic circles are building, the pressure so wet and heavy that you thrust your cunt into his face. It’s too much, too dirty and too fast, your thighs clench around his head, trying to pull him deeper.

_“yes”_ you're grinding against his face, feeling the bridge of nose touch your pubic bone. You needed more, you needed relief from this hazy torture. “ _Yes, please, please, please._ ”

“What do want?” he grins it, licking lightly around your swollen bud. “Ah, I know“

He diverts his tongue, slipping it down to your entrance. While his thumb – his huge fucking thumb – rests on your clit.

Kylo slaps the inner skin of your thigh, watching the red mark bloom. “You like it rough”

He starts rubbing your clit, aggressive and wet with his saliva, hard. Back and forth, back and forth. Harsh, brutal moves that have you crying out into ship. He doesn’t heed your cry, just pushes his face further into your sex, flicking his tongue inside you.

He wants you; he wants you and he wants you to cum on his face.

You look at him. The light catching your juices along his jawline, his hair mussed where your hands had pulled at it and the dark lit of his eyes on your face.

He’s worshipping you.

The wet slapping sound a choral ringing to his ears, his mouth groaning every time you arch into his touch, his eyes staring at your face like he’s seen a god. It was so seductive and heady it has your pussy throbbing. You were going to — _you were going to—_

“Don’t you fucking cum until I tell you” he growls, bringing his head up to stare directly at your face, his thumb still moving at a staccato “Do you understand?”

You moan when he bites your thigh. “You’ll have to beg for it”

“Please Commander, I want to!”

“You want to what?” he smirks, so cocky in his own method of bringing you to heel.

“I want to cum”

“You can do better than that” He’s denying you, holding back from touching the way you need, watching your cunt pulse and flush pink under his scrutiny “You’re good with your words”

“ I want to – _ahh_ \--” he pushed on finger inside of you, the huge size causing you to buck against his knuckle “--I want to cum on your face – _fuck_ —I want you to be covered in me” He wants more, you can see it in his eyes, feel it in the other hand gripping your thigh, holding them spread “--Your tongue—I want your tongue, to fuck my pussy. Make it dirty” The words were slurred half-drunk on the feeling, your neck lolling with the pleasure “—please. Please let me cum, I’ll be good this time – _ah ah_ —I promise!”

“That’s my girl” he smiles, presses a soft kiss to your clit before he dives back in to tongue-fuck your hole.

Finally, everything settles into a fast rhythm. His hands holding you down, your cunt pushing with need, your body raw and willing.

“Cum” he says it on a breath, his mouth plump and wet “Cum on my face, filthy slut”

You cum. Back arching on the bed, hands digging into his scalp, trying to find an anchor for the racks of pleasure coursing through your body. Everything was throbbing, your legs held in a vice grip as they shake violently. You think you’re screaming but your head was saying _Kylo, Kylo, Kylo._

When you come down, breathing heavily, he is pushing a finger in and out of your pussy, casually feeling the aftershocks ripple through your body.

“You feel perfect” he pulls his finger out of your cunt, making eye contact as he licks your arousal of his finger. His finger slipping to the back of his throat. Your body burns as he pulls the finger back out, ensuring that it is fully cleaned of you “--My good girl”

He starts pulling his belt through his jeans – your eyes light up – and he scoffs. “You want to get spanked, hmm?”

You blush – that was what you were thinking.

You feel the shame well, settling in your chest. “I wasn’t—“

“Not today” he interrupts, stepping out of his jeans and toeing off his shoes “Today I’m giving you everything you need”

He rips his underwear off, removing all sensuality for haste. His cock Is swollen, red at the head and dripping with pre-cum.

Your eyes follow it – _you did that._

You made the Commander hard.

_Nice._

His eyes swallow your naked form, ravaging your body again like he had never seen it. Something comes over him, molten and rough. He grabs your thighs pulling them apart so he can settle himself between them.

He was going to fuck you, in your own small home, and you were going savour it.

“Is this what you wanted?” the breach of his dick has you cursing, bringing your hands up to grip the headboard. A desperate attempt to return to your body and centre yourself. “What you were waiting for?”

_Yes,_ you think, _it’s what I’ve been waiting for this entire time._

“Good girl” he grunts, watching your body swallow his dick “Look at the way you take my cock”

You looked. It was like seeing it from another perspective, a voyeur to something brimming with so much lust that you can taste it. He had sunk into, as smooth as hot knife through butter, silky and soft.

Your body swelling with him.

“You were so _good_ out there” you squeak when he brings his out and in with a harsh slap “so powerful” he’s hands flex and grip tightly on your hips, a bruising hold “I was turned on by the darkness I feel in you. I would have fucked you there on that dirty floor”

Flicks of images fill your mind – ones he was forcing into your head- you stripped off your trousers, face down in the dirt, waiting for his cock. He wouldn’t have taken his time. Would have ripped off your panties and filled you with his dick. It would have been aggressive and dirty, fuelled by the adrenaline of the fight. He would fuck you hard – the fight being foreplay enough- and let your knees scrape on the cement flooring. Would have held your hands in the same grip as those cuffs, a sensual power play, and you would have looked filthy and iridescent.

Unconsciously, the image has you filling with warmth. Your cunt soaking at the brutality.

The sickening part was that you liked it.

He starts pistoning his hips against yours, his dick slipping through your wet folds with ease. The sexual images causing your pussy to leak under the ministrations.

“ _Little whore_ ”

He floods your mind with images of the gas attendant – the way he looked your legs, the lustful pleasure of the bare skin of your collarbone, the way he wanted you- and the way Kylo would have taken you in front of him. Made him watch as Kylo put his hand down your trousers, rubbing you to completion on the side of the street.

“ _No one else can have you_ ”

The slapping of skin on skin has you aching, gripping tightly to the metal bar, as he rams his hips into yours. Cock slamming into your body, diligent and determined in its aim to have you falling apart.

He shows you the way you look in your uniform, the way it clings to every curve of your body, not hiding the rise of your chest or the rub of your thighs. The way he could hear how much you wanted him, how it made his cock harden in his uniform, the bright blush that spans your cheek.

“ _You’re mine_ ”

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

The words echo in your mind as his sweat drips down onto your body. The heat causing your pelvis to slip against yours, his thumbs causing bruises on your hips, your body curling and bending in his embrace.

When he brings his thumb to your clit, you groan against the pain of more stimulation and revel in it. Your body is slipping up the bed, his head pushing into your neck, grunting into your ear.

The wave of pleasure hits you, when he whispers in your ear, thumb grinding on your clit.

_“Mine”_

He bites your neck while you shake, spilling himself inside you. His hip slaps into you for the final time and holding you like you may disappear if he doesn’t. You can feel the warm cum slipping out of your body, seeping into the covers below.

You feel warm and so full.

And when he pulls out, he spends moments beside you, pushing his cum back into your body with his fingers.

“Kylo-“

“Ssh—” he sighs, rhythmically watching your cunt flutter under his touch.

You should go clean yourself, wash away the grim and cum. Instead, you fall asleep to his touch. His body slowly curling itself around you to hold you to his chest.

Naked, still, whole.

It felt like peace.

* * *

You wake half an hour later, unsure what stirred you, when you hear his sleepy voice.

_“Rey”_ he murmurs, his arms tensing around your midriff.

_Excuse me?_

_Rey._

_Rey._

_Rey._

_Who the fuck is Rey?_

You extracted yourself from Kylo’s arms -burdened with the feeling that he wanted someone else in your place- and put on your panties and the Commander's fucked-up jumper, slipped out the Freighter doors and sat down on the cool sand, watching the water flow in and out.

_Rey._

There’s no Rey in your class.

No Rey on the Finalizer.

She could be on another ship. The Supremacy, Absolution, Steadfast. All world-class ships with a lot of crew. You could look it up. One word from you and Levi would get you the name of every officer in the First Order.

Fuck, what was he doing to you?

Who were you becoming? Thinking about hunting down some women like a jealous concubine.

You strip off the jumper and your panties, standing bare in the face of the ocean.

You needed to be cleaned. Wash it all away.

You step into the ocean.

The water is cool, wrapping around your feet like a serpent. It’s cleansing in the moonlight; No assassins, no Kylo, a fallacy of freedom – a dream. It cools your skin on the warm night, and you can’t help but wade further into the surf.

It’s still, the waves barely thrashing. Instead, it laps over your thighs, washes your stomach – and as you wade further – strips the dirt from your torso. Scrubbing at the dirt and blood, you submerge yourself under the water, rubbing the blood of your cheek and cum between your thighs. Trying to scrap his touch from your skin.

_He spoke another woman’s name._

You bury yourself under a wave, sinking into the dark depths. You would rid yourself of him. Let the water cleanse you – rid your skin of his touch, dispel your mind of its infatuation and burn your soul of its need. This would be the last time he touched you. You swear it this time.

This desire was a hot flame and it would burn you both.

_It was just lust,_ you told yourself, _nothing more._

Rising from the water, you brush it over your face: A final cleanse.

When you open your eyes. Kylo is watching you, standing on the shore with all grace of a prince, hair brushing his face in the humid winds. He’s dressed in a black top and sweatpants – something Jeninne would have got him – he’d never walk the Finalizer in sweatpants.

Although, you’d pay to see it.

“Come here” he didn’t shout it, he didn’t have too, he has a voice that carries.

The first step in your no-more-Kylo rehabilitation programme was not giving in to every demand. You float on your back and — with aggression—give him the middle finger.

“Fine” he grunts.

There’s a scuffling sound and when you look back at the shore, he’s stripping his top over his head.

“What are you doing?!” have your sentence gets lost when you accidentally gargle water. Apparently, seeing his bare skin still made you stupid.

“If you won’t do as I say” he pulls his sweatpants down slightly, exposing the ‘v’ of his abs “I’ll come to you”

He pulls them off. Casual and unashamed in his nudity. So blasé about being bare, so confident. It feels shameful to stare, despite him being balls deep in you half an hour ago, you drag your eyes away.

“Stay there” you shout, treading the water.

He steps in walking. Walking through the surf with tenacity.

You groan. “Commander!”

“Lieutenant” he replies.

You push away, paddling further away from the shore. Distance Is good, distance is safe.

“Stop swimming” he bellows, a few metres away from you “Will you continue to be disobedient?”

_Says the guy who says another woman’s name after he’s done fucking someone._

“Will you continue to be an asshole?” you scream back. He’s close enough to touch you now, the length of his legs taking him further, and he slips an arm around your torso.

“So wound up” he mocks, grabbing each side of your naked hips “Did I not fuck you well enough?”

You push away his arms, but you can feel his mind trying to reach out for you instead. It’s a breaching sharp pain that drags through your forehead.

“No, that’s not it” he hums.

“Stay out of my mind” you say, throwing some water at his inquisitive expression “You promised me that”

Though, your rules and restrictions had become shallow and unimportant, diluted with sex. There was something else that had been playing on your mind. Something that would distract him from the jealous invading your thoughts.

“What I did yesterday….” You start.

“You fear things will change” when you shake your head, his wet hand grips the line of your chin, forcing you to look at him. The tips of his hair were wet, water droplets running down the tight muscles of his torsos. It took all your self-control not to shake his grip and follow the waters trail.

“They will. You cannot be expected to stay as a Lieutenant”

“I never wanted to be… a Jedi”

“You are not a Jedi” he spat, his words curling with unrestrained hatred.

“or a Sith or anything else!”

“Then what do you want?” he runs his hands over your arms, far more delicate and sweet than earlier “I said I would give you what you want”

“I..” the words fail, slipping off your tongue. At the Casino, you had told Kylo that he didn’t know what you wanted. But you were starting to wonder if _you_ knew what you wanted. Never before has someone given you a reason to examine it. It was like pulling a thread from a carpet. You keep tugging and everything will unravel until there was just thread. Suddenly he was ripping the wool apart, asking you to consider the possibility of being something more than a pawn in someone else’s chess game. What were the threads that made you yourself? 

What you wanted.

There was a relentless ache tearing at your soul, one which could only be abated with one thing; the one thing you knew you wanted. It was once a faraway dream, now so close to reality, the last few days solidifying it. The new planets, the terrifying adventure, the expanse of space.

The water gripped your thighs and the words slipped through like waves swallowing the rocks.

“Freedom”

He doesn’t seem shocked by your words, but he doesn’t delight in them either. He was a military man, a warrior, his fate was always meant to be on a battlefield. But you, you just wanted to see more, know more, see new things. That didn’t fit in with the rigidity of the fleet.

You liked your job, stable and secure, but you’ve seen more now. Touched snow, gambled with the upperclassmen, been in your first fight. It was fresh and wild. It was you.

“I will let you have as much as I can afford you” he says, controlled and deep, holding the soft apex of your wrists “As my Apprentice”

So, he wouldn’t give you _everything_ you want.

How he can consider that freedom eludes you. Your freedom exists within his creation. He could create it and destroy it; take away threads until there was no parts of you left.

No one is free in subservience.

Whether you served the First Order or him, the end result is always the same.

“So, I have been updated from common whore to apprentice. I better count my lucky stars” you bite, vicious in a taunt you know he’ll succumb too.

You start to move away but his arm grips yours, pulling your inches out of the water.

“Once I tell the war council about this, do you think they will let you surrender to obscurity” he grinds, each word a sting. “Hide behind your little walls or fawn about at your desk”

”They could force you into servitude, or…”

_Or you could lose your life._

“You could choose not to tell them” you bargain.

“I could” he lifts his hand, running a finger over your jawline “But why would I do that? When I have you exactly where I want you”

He watches your befuddled expression – stuck between confusion and interest.

“You need a teacher; I need a student” he states, matter of fact.

You scoff at the ridiculousness of that statement. “You are not my Master”

“You’re not my anything” you say, pushing your palm against his chest “I’m expendable remember?” you repeat his words “We’ll finish this mission and you can forget I exist”

He brushes off your words, gripping your arms in his hands. “Enough of this foolishness”

“Let me go!” you struggle against his arms.

He pulls you to his chest. “I could order you to be my Apprentice”

“You could”

“For now, consider it an offer” his words feel smarmy in the warmth of the water “Think it over”

“What happens if I say no?” you implore.

“You can take your chances with the War Council”

You almost laugh. It would be writing your own death sentence. A force-sensitive person not conforming to Sith training. You’d be killed or forced to comply – one way or another.

‘Either way, I lose” you say.

“No” he’s confident in his answer, as though he could change your mind with that word alone.

“As my equal“ his chin is held up “—as my other—” strong and stable “You would never lose”

“Equal?” you cling to the word, an olive branch in the midst of this debate.

“Consider my offer” he repeats “I won’t ask you twice”

You knew that.

“However, it’s interesting that you are only worrying about your force sensitivity“ he smirks “Considering you killed someone yesterday”

You had. You had forgotten that.

“But you don’t feel any guilt about that” his eyes implore yours, rummaging through your mind without the need for the force “How interesting”

He was right.

You had joked and laughed, fucked, and smiled…even after someone had died at your hands.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t care.

The darkness was inside you. It always had been.


	10. Error: Fucks Not Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NEW UPDATE - my MacBook has just died on me because of an update (piece of shit company) and now I can’t even turn it on or access anything, so the next update might be very late depending on whether I actually have a laptop) 
> 
> So sorry for the late update, life got in the way slightly. 
> 
> As always this is my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing messages and comments I get. Special shout out to Gwen who is more loyal than any of my ex's and always manages to brighten my day. Also, thank you to all my Tumblr followers including kanashiichan (on Tumblr) who made these two awesome moodboards (you know I love a moodboard) for Jeninne and the Lieutenant. 
> 
> .
> 
> .

The next morning you sat on the sand, watching JD-1 scurry over the dunes and wet his wheels in the water.

JD had figured out that if he held a stick and spun fast enough, he could make perfect circles in the sand. You watched him make circles inside circles, before he eventually finds excitement in some pink seashells, packing each one in his velvet bag.

JD-1 never mentioned his previous owner and you never asked. But - seeing his pure childish energy- you assumed he hadn’t been allowed out much.

This probably would be his only outing for a while.

If all goes to plan

You were dressed to kill.

Black crop top and trousers. Bartholomew over your shoulder and knives strapped to your ankles. Yet, you don’t think you will ever feel as powerful as you did in Canto.

You open and close your hand. The one still scarred from Vandor. Remembering how the bolt came loose because you wished it. And how the guard died because you wished it. The sigh that seeps out of you is long, created by restless sleep and a heavy mind.

Rey. Hellford. Kylo’s entire existence – it’s too much to consider.

Kylo had dressed with a cause too.

He walks out the freighter head to toe in leather – _thank you Jeninne for your service-_ and stands next to you on the shore. His arms tense under the material and you wipe away the saliva that threatens to slip out your mouth.

Those arms had held you up. Had held him over you.

_Fuck._

He hands you a datapad, containing nothing but a series of numbers.

“Coordinates. Sent by our source through transmission--” he says, huskily against the waves. “--We move now”

“Will you kill him?” your voice coming out far softer than you intended.

“The objective is to bring him in for questioning—” he says “—but I might. Would you like to watch?”

You grimace. Letting the sea air rip at your skin. You stand, unwilling to give Kylo the answer he’s looking for, JD-1 comes scuttering to your legs, huddling into your calf.

You need to move forward.

To Naboo. And to Hellford.

* * *

When you land in the middle of a verge, all you could think was – _grass._

Naboo was aesthetically flawless. Rolling hills of vermillion flowers and cliff the size of a Destroyer. JD-1 rolls around, scavenging again, ignoring your calls of ‘ _be careful’_ and ‘ _slow down’_ to throw himself on a bed of millaflowers – an expensive flower- so watching JD roll around in them was the human equivalent of throwing cash on the bed and laying on it.

It was fragrant with earth and sweet with a honeylike undertone.

You savour a few moments just breathing it in.

“These are the coordinates” Kylo states, walking up behind you into the flower beds.

You look up at the empty sky and around at the exotic ferns. “This a field”

“Thank you for your astute observation”

You chuff “Always a pleasure”

Kylo comes to stand before you. An imposing stature against yours.

“You have become a little brat, haven’t you?--” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb down the side of your neck “--maybe I’ve been too lenient with you, letting you say and do what you want”

His eyes are taunting. And admiring.

He cannot deny that he enjoys your wicked tongue.

“It’s not like you haven’t enjoyed it” you sass, bringing your hands to his chest. Feeling every sharp breath.

Kylo brings his hand up. The large span of his thumb to rest at the plump of your bottom lip. Rubbing his thumb back and forth. It’s a feeling you know well, as you allow your mouth to fall open and hold the tip of his thumb.

“This sassy mouth—” he hums “—remind me to fill it when we get back”

“I’ll put it in my calendar”

“It will be the only thing in your calendar—” he pulls you in by your waist “— _for weeks_ ”

He kisses you with a soft press of his lips, slow, languid and sensual.

_He was definitely going to fuck you in a field._

His hands slip underneath you’re top.

_Underneath._

“Underneath!” you shout, jostling the Commander who tuts in dissatisfaction.

He was trying to thumb a nipple through your binding. “That’s where I’m trying to get-“

“No! It’s below us!-“ You remove yourself from his hold, leaning over the edge of the hillside, down at the waterfalls below “-waterfalls sometimes cover cave entrances, if it’s not above us or around us, can’t it be within the hill itself?”

“You’ve been getting a little distracted during this mission, haven’t you?” you say smugly. Moving along the hillside, to a space you could get down safely.

“Little minx—” he tuts “—every word from your mouth is an extra punishment I intend on giving you”

Everyday things between you change. The once angry biting remarks transforming into flirty banter right before your eyes.

“Promises, promises” you joke.

“You can act as disinterested and sarcastic as you please—” he holds your eyes across the swell of petals “—but I know your mind. I know every filthy fantasy that has ever plagued your thoughts. Know how your body responds to my touch and know how wet you get at the sound of my voice”

He comes up behind you to place his lips at the shell of your ear.

“— _and your attitude will not get you fucked any quicker_ ”

“Yes, Commander”

You look around and JD-1 is looking at you with one wide eye. If he was human you could imagine him raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that”

You don’t imagine JD-1’s sigh.

The waterfall is harsh and heavy. You have to stick to the cliff face to slip behind it, uncovering a large metal door, one side precariously hanging on its hinges. As if it had been broken.

You turn to give Kylo a smug smile.

He does not return it – just pulls the broken door of its hinges and walks in.

You follow, expecting an apocalyptic bunker or a dilapidated hovel.

It was not a bunker or a hovel - It was a church.

An empty, wide space, built into the very rock around you.

Pews rose up from the ground, made from the hill rather than any carpenter's hands, and flowering pillars of marbleised rock.

What should have been windows was replaced with tapestry (an attempt to make the space feel less squalled and confined) were decorated with depictions of different planets. Some were battle scenes through the ages – Operation Cinder was sewn into life, each of its panels showing the damage of Naboos surface, another had the Siege of Mandalore, Darth Maul pictured in a bright thread, a third was the Battle of Kashyyk, the thread of its waters coming loses and pilling underneath the picture. None of the tapestries were particularly heralded, it was more a depiction of history than a piece of art to worship.

There was a door at the end of the pews. And it was ajar.

“This feels--“ you move an inquisitive frog with your foot, drawn in by the pools of water “—easy”

You stand in the hall, watching the water soak the floors, and the deafening silence permeating the air.

“Way too easy” you state.

“Watch your back”

“With what? My second pair of eyes?” you snark.

While Kylo takes the left, you take the right.

There are bookshelves alone the temple walls, sodden with water damage and mould. You pull out a few – cookbooks, political essays, and religious texts. All with missing pages and holes that been created by somethings teeth. A few more are in languages you don’t know. And when you pull them out, the ink has been tarnished, leaving rough smudges in its wake.

JD-1 beeps a ‘ _this is old’_ in droid and you nod your agreement.

There’s an open book on the table nearby. A leak is dripping cold water upon it, but it has words on theology – although muddled. You turn a few pages and there is a drawing of another temple. Far larger than the one you’re in now, statutes carved into its face, you brush your hand over the ink, then pull out the page. Folding it into a tiny square that fits into your pocket.

It’s not like anyone will miss it.

Paintings are ripped at the corners; mosaics are missing squares and glass is smashed. JD-1 finds a shiny silver pin, encrusted with lime coloured stones. The little thief pockets it.

Simply put – it looks like somewhere where dreams go to die.

Your shoes are sodden with water and then make a squelching sound while you walk past the pews. JD rolls past, his wheels kicking up water on to your shins, zooming in front of your legs. He stops suddenly and you have to lift a leg to avoid stepping on him

“Put on your break light next time-“ you say, but he’s distracted, you follow his eye up the stone pillar. “ _Oh_ ”

There was a painting on the pillar.

A simple swirl of green ink.

The paint looks fresh and when you bring your hand up to touch it, your hand comes away green. It smells citrusy and crumbles on your fingers. A homemade paste rather than paint. Someone was in a rush when they drew this; no time for proper utensils or finesse.

“Does this image look familiar to you?” you say, voice echoing in the vast space.

You trace the swirl with your fingers.

You look down at JD, whose lighting up the pillars with a small flashlight coming out of his side. “JD-1, can you scan this?”

He beeps an affirmative and the light sprays on the wall with a yellow grid. Each pixel picking up the twisting sign.

“Why would he chose this-“ you gesture to the temple but when you turn Kylo has left the main space “-and you’re gone…wonderful”

“No Kylo, you go ahead--“ you say to yourself, mimicking a conversation that could have existed “--I wouldn’t want to hold you back, it’s not like we’re a team or anything”

You follow Kylo’s lead and slip through the open door, into a separate high-ceilinged space which created a pentagon with its ornate pillars.

And that’s where you find _him._

Sitting on the marbled floor, a single candle lighting his face.

He’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room – palms raised to the sky. Like a yoga instructor, or a follower of meditation, or a serial murderer with a habit of living in desolated religious spaces. 

Makes no difference which.

Kylo circles his right side and you follow to his left. Keeping Hellford between the two of you.

Predators hunting prey.

Hellford doesn’t open his eyes, but he smiles, breathing out a satisfied sigh.

“You’ve taken a long time to get here. I was getting restless—” he rolls his neck, the cracking sound making you cringe “—were you held up—” he chuckles “—sorry, I mean _tied up_ in Canto?”

You look at Kylo and he catches your eyes – understanding passing between you.

He set you up.

“Come quietly—” he flips the sabre in his hand, a scene that should not be as hot as it was “—or I’ll silence you myself”

“Temper, temper—” Hellford tuts, opening his eyes to look straight at you, hot and humoured “—that’s not the way to act in front of a lady”

Kylo loses his temper. He strides towards Hellford - all long steps and tough leather- eyes on his target, power unwavering. Hellford, however, does not stop watching you. The sheer deepness of his stare making you flush.

Kylo places his sabre under his chin – the light flickering so close to his neck that the heat _must_ burn.

“Make your choice” the Commander grunts.

“A man of few words. How dull—” Hellfords’ eyes flicker to the sabre before offering his clasped wrists to you “—will you cuff me, sweetheart? I prefer a feminine touch”

He pushes himself onto his knees. Arms outstretched and waiting.

“Suck my dick” you snap.

“Well I am on my knees for you”

Kylo throws you the cuffs and you catch It in one hand.

You won’t deny that it felt pretty badass.

You reach out with one part of the cuff, slipping it over his right hand, and for fun, you click the cuffs harshly until they did into his arm.

Hellford chuckles lowly. “My, my, what a grip you have”

“All the better to choke you out with”

“You remind me of a lady I’ve met—” he says “—a ditzy thing. Barely could waltz”

You flinch; hands slipping on the second cuff. Hellford sneaks a glance at Kylo and you in turn. Whatever he sees on your face has his eyes sparkling, dancing with barely controlled mirth. The urge to slap that smug smile off his face is overwhelming, but instead, you put the second cuff on like the second one - digging them in viciously. Your eyes wander at the array of golden rings on his fingers - all of which are old, stoned with intricate jewels and foliage. 

“He told you to come silently. That means you don’t talk. In case that wasn’t clear,” you say, voice staying controlled despite your anxiety.

You tug at the cuffs. They hold. No room for escape.

“I’m a talker” he replies.

“I could always cut out your tongue—” Kylo says, bring the sabre up, almost burning his chin “--I’ve had enough of you wagging it”

_That’s hot._

Hellford looks delighted. No qualms about his surrender, no fighting or concern. He had lost all his fancy clothes from Canto, dressed in linen purple robes and black trousers, but he still looked like the _rich debutant_ you met. Still held himself with grace and decorum, clinging to his expensive jewellery and suave language, brimming with satisfaction in every inch of his body.

You had said it was too easy – and looking at him now – the feeling of dread was sinking into your stomach.

“I’ve surrendered ---” he placates “--I’m playing nice”

“Let’s keep it that way--” Kylo states, gripping the robe on his nape and pulling him up “—walk”

Hellford holds his cuffed hands in surrender. Kylo stands behind him – lightsabre to his back- and you take the front.

If Hellford comes easily then you could be back on the Finalizer for dinner.

And it was nerf nugget day.

Hellford walks as though he’s going for a casual stroll through a flower garden, only picking up the pace when Kylo pushes him forward, letting him shuffle his feet to regain balance. The looks he throws Kylo can only be described as a petulant child frustrating his parent on purpose.

Like a child kicking your seat on a ship; juvenile and aggravating.

When you finally get to the top of the hill, a swarm of pink, long-tailed birds appears from the woods.

How ironic that groups of birds can be called _murders._

“oh look…the birds are out,” Hellford says cheerily, half walking, half skipping down the rolling hill. His shoes kick up some of the flowers, pollen scattering around your feet. When you look back at him, he’s merrily watching the birds with rapt attention.

And he’s humming.

It’s slightly out of tune- disjointed- but enough for it to stir a memory. It’s an archaic song, from a period before the current First Order.

_What was it called?_

JD-1 whirrs ahead, bathing himself in the pollen. He looks rather fetching in a yellow coat and you smile as you walk behind, Naboo would be a beautiful place to explore – if you had the free time. Your mind swells with images of you and Kylo, picnics in the sun, bonfires at night; you in floaty summer dresses and him lying in the fields - watching you with pure, serene affection.

You stir with daydream after daydream.

Hellford coughs, drawing your attention. “What an interesting droid, very…niche”

“Don’t even look at him—” you bite defensively “—and try and understand the concept of silence”

“I understand it, I just don’t comply”

“ _Enough_ ” Kylo’s voice is stern and certain.

Hellford closes his mouth then. Only after giving you a cheeky tight-lipped smile, which you reply to with a middle finger.

You stand away to let Kylo lead Hellford up the ramp of the freighter. Watching the murderer’s braids – now decorated in waves of blue silk – move In the wind, a dance in tandem with his incessant humming.

It was only then that you recognised the song; with a name, it was more a warning than a song.

_Sound of Her Wings._

You steal a glance at Hellford. He catches your eye and _coos -n_ ot like the way older people _coo_ at your beauty- but the way a bird does.

Like a bird that’s been caught.

The return to the Finalizer was uneventful.

You had tied up Hellford. Wrapping his body with industrial cables. He swoons over your strength again and you slam your elbow into his stomach… for entertainment purposes.

You sit next to Kylo. Feeling the warmth of the engine and rough, worn seating, a moment to remember what you’ll lose when you return to the daily norm. You look at Kylo as well, all his beauty, frown lines and all, the strength of his body and soft slope of his nose.

You drink your fill as he flies you out of the atmosphere.

He puts his hand on your thigh and grips it tight.

A promise.

Nothing is over - not yet.

The Finalizer looks mediocre in comparison to the snowy caps of Vandor, the golden extravagance of Canto, or the waves of Bothawui.

It’s all very…. grey.

Walking into the hanger was like entering a parade.

Other Lieutenants titter among themselves and Stormtroopers stand ready to take Hellford into custody. General Hux is there too, looking very smug for someone who probably hasn’t left their desk since you had been away.

Levi is there. Working on the recovered TIE Silencer (obviously, Kylo couldn’t _bear_ to leave it on Vandor). He double-takes when he sees you, as though he didn’t expect you to come back in one piece, looking at your scarred hand and confused heart – you’re not sure you did.

He pulls up his goggles, his face marked with freckles and grease, and waves. You mime ‘ _later’_ and he nods in understanding. A touching reunion will have to wait.

Kylo drags Hellford down the ramp, hand tight on his robe, and throws him towards a Stormtrooper with a rough ‘ _take care of this’._

_And so, the theatrics begin. Drama queen._

Another Stormtrooper hands him his ghastly helmet.

And you realise that this is where you say goodbye.

You’d spent the last few days living in each other’s pockets. Sleeping in the same bed, eating at the same table, fucking, and fighting together.

Separating is foreign to you now.

His hand twitches at his side and you almost hope he’ll bring it to your face, brush his thumb over your cheek as he does so often. Instead, he grasps the forlorn helmet, his eyes not leaving your visage. Your cheeks burn under his unrelenting stare. The way he analyses ever plain of you -every slither of bare skin-as though it may be the last time.

It won’t be the last time. Not with the way his eyes still burn with need. Not with the bond growing between you. Not with the way you had shared touches in the dark. Not with the lines of power that circle both your veins.

Blinking, he looked away, watching his thumb rub the lines of the helmet. He gripped the ages and placed it over his, mechanically clinking it into place with a _whoosh_ of capsulated air. You hadn’t stopped staring, mouth opening and closing, on the cusp of a _goodbye_ or _see you soon_ , but all you had was scrambled letters and whispers of a farewell.

A farewell for now, but a farewell nonetheless.

On the Freighter, things were homely. You could speak freely, nobody -besides Kylo-watching your every move. Fixate on the mission and each other.

Now, you’re being watched.

“Lieutenant--“ his voice is disjointed by the modulator, but you can remember exactly how he sounds when he calls you that “--have the Medbay see to your hand”

“Of course…” you smile. General Hux gives you a disappointed look.

“…Commander” you quickly add.

“And I expect a full report”

“Yes, Commander”

“And-“

_And you want me in your quarters tonight?_

“Ren—” General Hux interrupts, cutting an impressive figure in the black uniform, arms folded behind his back “--there are things we need to discuss in regards to _the girl_. I’m assuming you still remember where the conference room is. Or did your holiday distract you from the other things that require attention?”

_The girl?_

Kylo’s hand flex at his sides, possibly riddled with the idea of ripping Hux’s head off.

You certainly were.

“You do not need to inform me on how to do my job, General--” His voice takes on a deeper, sinister tone under the helmet, and you don’t deny that it does _something_ to you. “-- _Some of us_ are competent”

He turns to you and, rather than the dramatic parting you expected, you get a solemn nod. Before he walks away with Hux in tow.

You probably starred at his back for too long, as you didn’t notice Levi come to stand behind you.

“What was that?” Levi says, handing you your datapad – that was probably stacked to the brim with unfinished jobs.

“What was what?”

“ _’Oh yes Commander, let me swoon in front of your rippling biceps’_ ” he mimics, high-pitched, hands over his heart.

You walk out of the hanger, pulling Levi through one of the many hallways.

You scoff in outrage “—I didn’t—”

“ _’Let me kiss your mask goodbye, you sexy sexy bastard’_ ”

“I think your goggles are rose-tinted”

“And I think you’re blind”

“You didn’t?-“ he watches your face, the more he sees the more he seems to brighten, the freckles on his cheeks a physical embodiment of his schoolboy charm. “—did you?”

You scoff. “I have no idea—”

“You did!” he accuses, joyfully bouncing in front of you, seemingly exhilarated by your flustered expression.

“I-“

“You guys fucked!”

“—Levi!” you shush him, moving him against the hallway hall. The last thing you need is the rumour mill spinning.

He holds your hips, moving you side to side in an excitable motion. “is it true what they say about guys with big hands?”

“You have big hands!”

“Not that big!—” he holds up his left hand up to his face “—his could cover my entire face.”

“Would you be quiet then?”

He winks with a lustful smile. “The exact opposite, actually”

“I’ve missed you”

“it was a few days,” he says. But his soft hand linking with yours shows he has missed you as well.

“A few days too many” JD-1 zooms up next to you, tugging your trousers with his little hand. “Oh, Levi meet JD-1”

“Hey, little buddy-“ Levi bends down to pat him on the head and looks up at you “—You picking up strays?”

“Among other things”

Mass murderers who teach you how to waltz.

Levi stands up to look you in the eye, a frown painting his face “…Not STD’s right?”

“No!” you exclaim.

“Just checking-“ he shrugs “I could add some new specs to JD-1 if you want? A fresh coat of paint? He needs some TLC—” he picks JD-1 up, hugging him into his arms as you make your way to the elevator “—especially if he had to listen to you and the Commander-“

“—doing nothing!” you defend “But if he wants that—” JD-1 throws a happy hand in the air “--it would be great”

When you get to the elevator it contains the last person you want to see.

Lt Alika Mandalay. Whereas Kalea was all sunshine, rainbows, and warm summer nights, Alika was storms, ritual sacrifice, and sending aggressive emails. Being Kaleas’ twin, she was beautiful – the same deep dark skin, brown eyes, and shaved head. Except being around Kalea was comforting and serene, being around Alika was like running a marathon on nails.

She also made no secret of her hatred for you.

She nods her head at you when you and Levi enter the elevator, but her smile is sinister.

“Lieutenant”

“Lieutenant--” you reply, you look at the stacks of manila folders in her arms. “--enjoying desk duty?”

“Enjoying sleeping your way to the top?” she snips.

You feel Levi’s’ breath hitch behind you and JD-1 makes a humorous noise.

_Jealous Is a disease, bitch._

The elevator is making a slow ascent and you give the numbers a pleading look. As if they could move faster if you only beg.

“When you and Kalea were born did all the decent genes go to her?--” you ask with mocking inquisitions, waving your hand animatedly “--and you just got the left-over code?”

“Ooh defensive” she mocks with sarcasm.

“Ooh bitch” you match.

Alika was all strong lines and impressive physical hold. The elevator opens on another level and -upon seeing her – the officers waiting allow the doors to close. You notice her mouth tips up into a bitter smile.

“Although, I have to ask-“ she says “--did you almost die? Or at least bleed a little?”

You chortle ruefully. “I bet you would love that”

She _umms_ and _ahhs_ , as if she hadn’t thought about the benefits of you not being here. “My class ranking _would_ go up without you here”

“to fifth? right?--” you sigh in faux sympathy “--A step behind your own sister. That _must_ be rough”

Alika was competitive, driven, it’s what made her impressive. It’s also what made her vindictive. Clawing at her sore spot has her bristled, her hands scrunching the edges of her papers.

Thus, it doesn’t surprise you when she slams her hand on the stop button – rendering your ascension to a halt.

_Like being trapped with a bear._

You set your sights on Alika, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to be in here longer than I have to be-“

“Did you fuck him?”

You smile. “Why? Jealous?”

“I’d rather choke-“

“I wish you would”

“But there are rumours--“ you give Levi a dirty look and he puts his hands up in mock surrender. JD-1 copies him, putting his little tin arms in the air “--and if someone’s getting a leg up, I want to know”

“I’m sure if you ask General Hux nicely you can put a leg over him for a bigger bonus” It was a petty and vindictive thing to say. But you’ve been stuck without a proper bath for days – tensions are high.

“Watch your mouth!” she grips, pulling the soft fabric of your top until she can get close to your face

“You seem to be watching it intently--” you bite “—do _you_ want to fuck me?”

“In your dreams”

“More like my nightmares”

Levis’ face pokes up. Visible in the corner of your eye.

“Do either of you remember I’m here?” he says.

Alika releases her hold on you, shuffling her folders where some had been moved in the fray. “I’m trying to forget”

“Wow. Touchy” he gives you a comical thumbs up “We’re all friends here, let's try and get along”

“No,” you both say at the same time.

When the elevator stops at her floor, Alika smooths her hand over the open doors before standing in front of you.

“In a world of endless choices, I’ll always choose me—” she says, placing the heel of her boot between the elevator doors, effectively stopping them from closing “—I suggest you start making some better choices Lieutenant. Or your insatiable need for destruction might begin to ruin other people’s lives as well as your own—” she pulls back her foot and as the doors close, gives you a long-fingered wave “—have a nice day”

Silence. All you wanted was silence.

“She always manages to have the last word” Levi murmurs, before he starts talking about droid modifications, some long complicated drivel that has you starring back at the numbers.

Your datapad dings in your hand, lighting up with an unread message. When you check it, you didn’t have to check the name to know who sent it.

_Lieutenant,_

_I expect an answer in one week._

_Don’t make me hunt you down for it._

_You know what I’ll do if you disrespect an order._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers outfit inspiration:


	11. The Bad Mans Whore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....my MacBook logic board has fried. Meaning that all my writing has been lost (including the plans for these chapters and a 6000+ Priest! Kylo AU I worked really hard on) luckily they are fixing it on the warranty. 
> 
> I’m really devastated and it’s why the chapter was not uploaded on Thursday, and why things might take a bit longer. 
> 
> I wrote this version on my phone - I don’t like it as much as the first draft but I can’t remember what I wrote 😭. So I wrote this from scratch. 
> 
> I’m sorry guys.

  
There were bruises on you face.

You hadn’t notice them the day before but littered in the electric lights, you can see every marred line of emerald green skin, dark black marks sitting under your ear and a cut above your eyebrow. You pull down your night shirt, exposing the sore line of your lower neck and collarbone, there, bruised and deep, were a line of teeth marks. Hissing, you push each one individually, feeling the well of pain swell up your nerves.

He’d really done a number on you.

Though you couldn’t blame him for the bruises.

There were more on your stomach from the hits sustained on Canto and when your put bacta on them they scream in agony.

The medbay couldn’t help your hand. The scar was deep and any extensive cosmetic work was saved from those higher up enough to deserve it – a Lieutenant didn’t deserve it. They had given you bacta cream for the rest of your bruises and cleaned any excess wounds but that was all.

Being back in uniform was another odd experience. Before you had been so desperate to cling to what was your, now you miss Jeninnes handwork, the soft material of your caramel jumper, your tight gold feathered assemble and your capturing clothes.

They were yours too. They were only yours.

You smooth your hands over the grey.

_Lieutenant_ , you think, _you’re a Lieutenant. Stop thinking about yourself as anything else._

And now everything will go back to routine.

* * *

You meet Kalea and Levi in the cafeteria in the morning, JD-1 zooming through your legs as you walk. You have an unconscious rhythm with each other now, making it seem effortless, but he runs to sit next to Levi, hoping in the chair next to him as you put down your plate.

“You get a new favourite when we get on board?” You frown “Jerk”

Kalea coos, rubbing a manicured finger over JD-1’s rounded head. “Hi sweetie, aren’t you lovely”

“He’s a traitor” you snub, frowning at JD-1 pushing his head into Kalea’s hand.

Kalea looks as gorgeous as when you left, skin twinkling with a golden sheen and lashes curled to the sky. She runs her eyes over your body. You remember your bruises and the shitty foundation cover-up job, maybe you should have worked harder to hid them.. Or worn an ugly yellow hat that would distract everyone.

“You look….very—“she pouts her lips “—wild”

“You can say I look like shit Kalea, I won’t judge you for it”

Kalea blushes, the concept of disliking something confusing her completely. Ah, to be innocent and bathed in felicity - you wonder what it’s like.

“Yeah, I tell her all the time” Levi chimes in, cheeks full of the gelatinous white food that somehow qualifies as sustenance.

“Ha ha..” you mock “Fuck you”

The slop on your plate jiggles when you touch it.

Grimacing, you push it to the edge of your plate, “What is this?”

“Isn’t it best not to ask?” Levi replies.

You realise that someone is missing from your band of exhausted workers.

“Where’s your demon sister?” You say.

Levi sighs ‘ _dude’_ under his breath and Kalea pouts. Kalea doesn’t like Alika’s behaviour but doesn’t stop it either, so you often have of conflicting views on whether she’s a ‘ _complicated, outgoing person with a stubborn disposition’_ or a ‘ _heinous bitch”_

“She’s just high strung!” Kalea defends, “And I’m not sure, she’s been disappearing a lot lately. I think she has taken a lover”

_‘Taken a lover?”_ You mime, Levi shrugs, chuckling under his breath. Kalea old school colloquialisms will never make sense in your mind. It’s like being around a governess of a Senators family.

“She’s fucking?” You ask.

Kaleas forehead scrunches, displeasure evident on her face. “Not the term I’d use”

_Speaking of fucking…_

You feel the warmth before you see the man.

_He’s here._

Kylo was getting easier to distinguish in the changes in the force. Before it was a slight warmth down your back, now it was like being cooked for 30 minutes – crisp, bubbling heat. Your skin felt like the top of a lasagne, all melted and burnt at the edges.

He’s standing on the balcony, mask swaying between one of his knights and the militia below. You wondered if he could hear you from here.

There was one way to know whether he was listening.

_I want to suck your dick in your uniform with your mask still on._

He doesn’t react.

Nothing.

You smile, pushing your food around your plate with distracted movements.

_Your thighs look great in leather._

Nothing, again.

_Want to eat me out on the bridge?_

This time, however, the tendons shift in his arm. Barely discernible over the distance, but enough for you to throw your head down, using Levi as a shield.

“What are you doing?” Levi says, looking around himself.

“…enjoying the smell of our wonderful food”

“No one enjoys the smell of our food…” he grimaces, twirling some sodden piece of food, “…Not even the rats”

The prickling sensation is back. Drilling through your head and burning an ache into the back of your eyes. Like trying to pry open door by burning right through it.

You look up, finding his masked face watching you.

You hide again.

“What are you bloody—“ Levi turns, locking his eyes on the Commander helmet, now turning back towards one his knights “—oh, lover boys here”

The lack of reaction from Kalea shows that the rumours have breached further than you expected.

Apparently denial is the mask of truth. “Fuck off” you snip.

“Hmm….” He’s beaming, bending down to try and find your eyes underneath your hands, “He’s watching you”

Laying your head on your arm, you turn your eyes to the balcony, curiosity and the need for validation compelling you. His fingers are tapping on the balcony banister, the other gloved appendage gripping it tightly, the wide straight line of his shoulders facing you. Tall, broad, and beautifully imposing – starring at your table.

He waits until you match his covered eyes, lifts his hand, and makes _come hither_ gesture with his long fingers.

You slide your tray away from you, “I have to go”

“Oh do you?” Levi laughs, “What a bizarre coincidence that you have to leave now…”

You scratch JD-1’s little head.

“You don’t mind going with Levi for today do you?” JD-1 beeps his excitement, looking eagerly at Levi, “Good boy”

“Leaving a droid for a booty call” he tuts.

“—it’s been fun” you sing, already skipping away from the table.

“You’re the worst”

You wave, Kalea was already drawing Levi into conversation by the time your through the double doors.

An orgasm is not to be refused, especially when the person giving you it looks _that_ good.

You swear you weren’t running, but you were definitely walking faster than everyone else. Just as your about to enter the door to the balcony, a hand grabs your arm, roughly pulling you into a thin corridor.

“Fucking hell!” Kylo pulls you against the wall, leaving you breathless, “You almost gave me a heart attack”

He pulls his helmet off, his hair perfectly flowing and lips red. He looks…. _longing._

The Commander pushes himself against the wall, caging you in.

“For someone who pretends to be so resistant—“ his eyes roam your lips, smirking, “—you come to me when I call”

“You’re still my boss” you smile.

“Yes” he brushes his lips over your, soft and subtle, “Yes, I am”

The kiss is deep and slow. Licking the seam of your lips with unhurried moves. He smells like cologne, conditioner and something that might be mint. His hands grip your back pulling you against the rough line of his uniform, and letting your hands grip the leather while he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth.

_In a corridor,_ you think, _like a school romance._

The Commander brings his lips down, sucking on the side of your throat.

“I own every inch of you” he whispers into your ear.

“This neck—“ he runs his hands down the lines of the grey marl, grabbing your breasts in an unyielding grip “—these tits—“ they slip down rubbing the length of your thighs, your voice is tight, whimpering and fragile when one hand run up and grabs your pussy through your trousers, “—this cunt—“ his other hand takes your throat, forcing you to face the dark caverns of his eyes. “—it’s mine. Isn’t it?”

The answer was in your pebbled flesh, the sweat on your brow, the plump of your open lips and the arms that will not push him away. He asks a question with only one possible answer.

“Yes”

Tightening his grip on your throat – fast and hard- you stumble to grab his arms. Your answer was the not the one he was looking for. He lets you have a sample of air, just so he can hear it when you sigh ‘ _Yes Commander’_

This was thrilling for him. You being so submissive and malleable.

_Did he hear me? In the cafeteria?_

“I always hear you—”he replies, he’s opening your zipper, your body gone limp with need, “—a broadcasting frequency I can’t turn off”

His hands are pulling your panties aside before you can think about where you are. Flies open in a cold air, chills running through your folds and rubbing your sticky skin. You still wouldn’t say no if he bent you over right here - railed you against the metal walls.

“You are a distraction—” he pushes a finger into you “—a temptation I can’t sedate”

He uses his thumb to push on your bundle of nerves, viciously rubbing your pussy, your cunt thumping like it’s never been touched before.

_“I’m going to ruin you”_ his words were like a curse; a spell woven into your body, _“Temptress”_

He pushes his leg between yours, throwing them wide. His touch is harder, warm and creeping all the way through your nerves and into your soul. You whine when he takes his hand out, his tongue creeps out and he licks two of his fingers, so slowly that you lean forward, desperate to watch him suckle on his own hands.

“Touch me” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop it, the need and desperation in your voice causing you to blush. It sounded wanton.

“I’ll touch you when I want to-“he licks your neck, “-how I want to-“he takes one hand in your hair, gusting it so he can throw your head back, “-and you’ll let me, my little mistress”

His fingers are back, touching you like a man who knew how touch a women, like a man desperate to watch you fall apart, you keen when pushes your clit.

“Sir I-“ a distinctly masculine voice says, “-Oh”

Knight Ushar is standing there.

Without his helmet, you see extra breathing tubes and anti ox filters bouncing of his light green skin. You didn’t know where he came from, or who he was, but right now he was transfixed by Kylo’s hand, eye twitching when you shudder on Kylo’s finger.

Kylo creates little circles on your clit, rubbing the wetness all over you.

“ _Fuck”_ you moan, unconsciously grinding on his hand

_There’s a Knight right there, what the fuck am I doing?,_ The thought is lost in Kylo’s touch, in his hot breath on your shoulder.

Kylo seemed unfazed by Knight Ushar seeing him with his hands in your pants, still fondling your clit with rapt attention, In fact, you think he enjoys it. You keen when he rubs you particularly vigorously, soaking the tips of his fingers and your face flushing red underneath the Knights curious look. Kylo was a possessive exhibitionist – sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your neck and setting up residency as the owner of your body.

It was non-verbal ‘ _not for sale’ sign._

_“_ General Hux has need for your presence in the war room” Ushar says, but his eyes- his eyes are attached to you, High on your torso. You look down. Kylo had ridden up your uniform, your bra exposed to the air, nipples red and hardened. The get harder – if possible- under the Knights appraising eyes.

Visibly sweating, your hands slip when they try to push Kylo always; trying to cover yourself from the Knights judgement

He would remember you as the girl who let a Commander finger fuck her in a hallway.

The Commander grips both your wrists in one hand, slamming them above you.

“Tell Hux he can handle this alone” his eyes are captured by your pussy: alight with lust, “I have _other_ things to attend to”

“ _Kylo—“_ you whine.

_“_ With all due respect Commander—“ the Knights voice has gone deeper, and he has trouble looking away from you to meet Kylo’s eyes “—These are Snoke’s orders”

You try to wiggle your arms. Snoke’s orders are not to be ignored and Kylo couldn’t turn up after his fingers have been inside you, smelling like sex and cologne, covered in your wetness. You look at the seam of his gloves now darkened by your cunt soaking them.

He’d be able to smell you on the leather

“Hmm…” you feel his teeth against your neck and know he’s smiling, “Then you better cum quickly”

“Kylo!” You bite, as he fucks your open, your count squeezing around his digits, “Ah—I can’t”

“You can—“ he grinds out, holding you tightly “—and you will, my pretty little whore”

He was incandescently beautiful in princely nature but with all the venom of a serpent – he wets his lips. Dipping his head back into your neck.

“You like him watching you dirty slut?” he grunts in your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. You shake your head and he harshly forces on thick finger in you. “I can feel your pussy, so wet and warm around my hand. Letting yourself get fucked in a corridor—“ he spits, “—dirty thing”

A broken moan tugs through your throat feeling his fingers thumb to hood your sensitive clit. You can’t imagine how you look to the Knight. Stuffed full of Kylo’s flingers, the sounds of your wet cunt echoing in the hall, your arousal seeping down you thighs

The Commanders whore.

You were so against that idea before but -with Kylo’s fingers fucking you brutally - you were starting to think it wasn’t so bad.

“This cunt can’t deny how you feel” he curls his finger and you collapse against the feeling, using his thigh to keep you up.

“Do you—“ the Knights words are chocked off, but he doesn’t move his eyes from Kylo’s disappearing hand “—Do you want me to leave sir?”

“No” Kylo states, watching your face for some rejection. He sees your blushing face, eyes burning with lust and body pushing against his hand,. “Stay” he says, “I know you like them feisty”

Ushar meets your eyes and you see something else there, something darker than lust that should terrify you, as if he was asking you ‘ _is that what you are?’_. But his eyes on you, in an act so dirty and shameful has you throwing your head back, avoiding the Knights eyes and bathing in Kylo’s touch. 

“I know your mind. Don’t hide what you are” he grunts in your ear, licking the shell lightly, “Cum on my fingers pretty girl, show him your sweet pussy, show him what an obedient whore can do”

You cried out, your legs shaking, sighing your nails into his arm, bliss flooding your entire system like a wave of fresh heat. His fingers dig deeper, pushing you through your pleasure with lewd sounds that turn to music.

You we’re gushing. Walls clenching over Kylo’s fingers.Your cunt had been aching for release all day and it’s spills out of you as Kylo expertly sees you through. But this was more cum than your had produced alone, seeping into your uniform, leaving a massive wet mark, your panties so drenched it rubs your inner thigh.

The Commander looks down and parts your pussy with his hand, watching your cum slip down your thigh as the shame coats your face.

_“What a mess you have made…”_ he says it likes he’s describing the weather, factual and low, _“…my needy little slut”_

He brings his fingers to your mouth with a deep ‘ _suck’_ and you do. Liking your own cum of his glove. Letting him force his finger to the back of your throat, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, and tasting your stick mess. 

You don’t know what possesses the Knight, or why he does it, but he takes his gloved hand and brushes a line of hair out of your face.

His touch is mulled, hand thrown against the wall with such aggression that you hear something snap, bent at an unnatural angle that makes you grimace in sympathy. Kylo is holding his hand tight, releasing you to keep pressure on the man.

The Commander likes his possessions to be _his_ and his alone.

“ _You are here to observe, nothing more!”_ He yells, you shush him, pulling your uniform into place, people may not looking the corridor but they aren’t dead, he throws a hand towards the corridor and Ushar moves quickly, _“_ Go, tell Hux I will be there shortly”

“Yes Sir”

“And Ushar…” Ushar was silent when Kylo hurt his hand – perhaps it was common- but turns his ear to catch Kylo’s words, “….make a mistake like that again and you will lose that hand”

Ushar nods and leaves.

“Meet me In my chambers at nine” Kylo states, picking up his abandoned helmet and fisting in his uniform pockets.

He pushes something into your hand and, when you look, it’s an access code. The access code to his room, already written out in flawless cursive.

He had been planning to give you this.

“Do not be late”

You pout, “Do I get a decent goodbye this time?”

He smirks, rubbing his glove – still covered in your cum and saliva- over his bottom lip. You swallow.

“Did I make you angry?”

You shift your weight between your feet, “…no”

_“_ Good girls don’t lie”

“Men don’t….” he raises an eyebrow at you, a warning, “…leave me alone” you finish.

“I don’t leave things that are mine—” he pushes his fingers into a bruise he has left on your neck and you moving your head to allow him access, “ —I own you, that doesn’t change on this ship. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir”

“Hurry back to your quatars—“ he pulls your uniform into place, “—you look filthy”

He leaves you soaked in sweat, cum and heat in the corridor.

You’ll be there at nine.

* * *

Nine o’clock couldn’t come quick enough.

The report had to be written – you removed _some details_ (the fucking, you removed the fucking _)-_ but you hadn’t finished it. Vibrating with the need to touching bare skin, to be kissed and held and thrown around like puppet on a string.

Kylo room was in the fancy living area of the ship – those on top don’t dwell with the commoners - It’s high up and walking up to it feels sneaky. You avoid everyone’s eyes, as though they would know exactly what you were up to if they looked at you, eyes are the window to the soul after all, and your soul was _sinful._

Just as you finished putting the code in and the door opened, your data pad _pinged_ with another message.

_Lieutenant,_

_A meeting has overrun_

_Wait for me._

Ever the wordsmith.

You let yourself in.

His room was sparse. _Boring_ , you think.

You open a few drawers, taking advantage of Kylo’s stolen time. There’s piles of black clothing, a few archaic weapons -that were either trophies or expensively sought out -and a single candle. Picking it up and bringing it your nose, it makes sense that it smells woodsy and almost mint-like. It fits him.

You put it back in its place. _Exactly_ in it’s place.

There’s writing materials. Long pointed pens that you’ve never seen before. Did he write here? By hand? It’s seems so archaic for someone so technologically advanced. There was ink and scatterings of worn paper.

A cup, a data cube and a pair of leather gloves sit on his bedside table.

You slip your hand into one and, to your surprise, it’s soft. Velveteen around your fingers, seeping into each bend and curve of your hand. Your fingers are slightly too short, leaving extra space that your can’t fill. But he would fill it perfectly, as he filled the pilot seat of your little ship, or the space behind you in bed.

Flipping your arm out dramatically, you hold it out, pretending to choke some invisible entity with a overzealous ‘ _choke, motherfucker’_ and flexing your hand like you’ve seen Kylo do.

The candle falls over.

“Huh” you sigh, “I expected more”

You look into a mirror - spartan circular thing- and see your bruised face. You weren’t exactly winning any prizes for beauty.

But Kylo likes it. Likes to touch every inch of your skin, no matter how mottled or scarred.

You run the gloved hand up your neck, letting it span the width of your neck. You could imagine it as his hand - if you squint – and you grasp your throat with it, digging into some bruises you didn’t notice before. Moaning softly, you tighten your grip, feeling each tendon shift and tighten under your palm. You couldn’t get the same grip that Kylo has. His is harder and stronger, rough with past battles.

You drag it to your cheek, holding your cheek softly. Your eyes close, leaning into It like a wistful princess in the arms of a lover.

Fuelled by an otherworldly deviance, you put the gloved thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling over the rough leather, dipping into each crevice as though it was him forcing you to act this way. Telling you to suck his thumb like it was dick, force you to gag on the material, smirk when your eyes start to well with unbridled tears, calling you a ‘ _good girl’_ when you take it so well.

You had an idea. A sick, twisted notion of how you could spend your ten minutes of isolation.

The bed was militant. Everything perfectly in place.

The satin sheets scrunch when you sit on it, balling around your ass. You’d fix it before he got back but, for now, you had time to enjoy something else.

Unzipping your trousers, your body warms, flushed with how wrong and right this feels. Burden with trepidation and thrilled with arousal.

You push your underwear down to your thighs. It’s still wet from before and when you run a covered finger through your fold it wets the material, just like before.

‘ _Fuck’_ you mumble under your breath.

_You insatiable vixen._

You jackknife of the bed like you had been burned. Kylo was not there, but his voice was a siren song in your mind. Clear and chilling. You through your hands up in surrender.

You catch your breath, “How…?”

_I’ve made you greedy._

“I can hear you….” You pull your underwear and trousers up, trying to look less a nude portrait that would hang in a cheap boudoir, “…but I can’t see you….can you see me?”

_Imagine what you could do as my apprentice. You could spend your days in this bed. Naked and filled, constantly._

You walk around the room. Thinking that he could appear like a ghost. Instead, his voice calls out.

_If your going to act like a concubine, then you should present yourself as one. Shower and be naked and ready for me by the time I get back._

_“_ Or…” you fling open the fresher door, it’s empty, “…you could answer one of my questions”

_I owe you nothing._

You roll your eyes, “yeah, yeah, you’re so terrifying and all mighty”

_Do not disobey my orders._

It was like a phone line going dead. One minute you felt his presence and next it was severed, a cut string. No matter how much you wished you could not reopen the connection.

There is more to the force than you can understand.

And it was driving you wild.

You had just finished showering when Kylo returns. The stomp of angry footsteps signalling his arrival. You wrap one of his towels – surprise, surprise, it’s was grey – around you body, wet feet making a squelching sound as you walk into bedroom.

You hadn’t been quick enough, you disobeyed an order. And it excited you.

A feeling hits you when you see his broad back, hunched at the shoulders, “You’re angry…” you whisper “…what happened?”

He rolls his shoulders, slamming his removed helmet on the side, his hair sways and you can see lacerations on his neck. Fresh and open.

They were not from your mission. They were raw.

“The prisoner—“ he slips his cape over his shoulders, throwing in on the bed before he faces you, “—I went to his interrogation. He is resistant to the force, a strong mind sits within him”

You sit on the bed, trying to untangle your wet hair, “Will he not talk at all?”

“He says he will talk” Kylo says.

You grin.

“He will talk to _you”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: Reylo is not going to happen, everyone in this story is a villian one way or another and all I want is this fic to end up on someone’s fic rec 😂✨


	12. It Can’t Possibly Get Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still playing ‘catch up’ with chapters guys, which I apologise for. The MacBook guy hasN’t said whether he can get my data back yet. 
> 
> This chapter has a lot of Reader and OC interaction, however, it is a full Kylo x Reader chapter next. 
> 
> Remember - you can be kinky and a bad bitch.

You sit on the bed until the water dries and your skin pebbles, tucking the towel under you arms. The Commander stood, looking down upon you, asking a silent question that you weren’t willing to answer.

The force was part of you. You could hide your mind – if you wished it- surely. You imagine a wall in your head, a solid, thick, a ships wall. You see it standing tall and strong, holding the image like a shield, but this man always knew how to break your walls. There is a tug that snaps you to reality, his face burning into yours. The face that haunts your every moments.

For once, you have the intelligence to be scared.

He grips your chin in his hand, pulling your face up to his eyes that beheld you with a darkness that has you paralysed.

“Why would he want to see you?”

You pull your chin out his hand, “He does prefer a feminine touch”

Kylo’s use of the force was punishing. Yours felt like an electric current that sways and flows, Kylo’s was piercing, a push of a knife the was vivid and filled with the cosmos. It pushed at your wall. You could feel the cracks and chiselling pain, but your wall stood. For now.

“I sense your deceit” he says, those cracks let something slip, “Do you lie to me often, little one?”

He thumbs your bottom lip and you kiss the tip of his finger. Being sweet could be a distraction, you would just have to play innocent, obedient, a smart _little whore._

“No, Sir” you pout, fluttering your eyelids like a proper wanton mistress.

Although Kylo is an insufferable, bucket mask wearing, man-child, but don’t say he isn’t a sucker for a pretty face. He brushes his thumb over one of your eyelids and along your cheekbone. He was someone else when He became like this, attractive in a gentlemanly manner, his arrogance rubbed away and replaced by consumption, greed, desire, but – most importantly- compassion.

It’s gone again as he rips your towel from your body. The red on your face spreads from your ears to your cheeks, more a maiden than the seductress; a blushing virgin. He doesn’t touch you, just stands away and _looks._ And look he does. He starts at your wet hair, each droplet of water brushing your skin gaining equal attention, he gazes at your face, burning with need and exposing exactly what you want.

He glides his eyes along your collar bones. His ears flushing red when he catches the bite marks on your skin, still raw and deep. He clenches his hands and you arch your back, if he were to touch them, you wouldn’t be against it. Instead, he meanders over the swell of your breasts, watching you chest rise with the attention and artist gives their work.

He doesn’t need to tell you to open your legs, you open them with just a look from him. Letting him drink his fill.

He rolls his shoulder. Relaxed, commanding and controlled all at once.

“Get dressed” he mutters. “I will give you an hour with him. Nothing more”

“Yes Sir, so great Sir” you mock, standing up to look for wherever you threw your uniform, “definitely wasn’t hoping for something else Sir” you mutter under your breath.

“Do you not think I would rather be fucking your sweet mouth?” He grabs your supple cheeks in his one handing, “I planned to tie you to that bed and fill you for hours, till my cum is soaked into your skin…” he stops his sentence, as if he might still do that. Send you to Hellford still covered in his cum. Whatever he senses in you it makes him smirk, before he grabs your uniform of the floor, pushing it against your chest, “…but we have jobs that need to be completed”

“Yes Commander”

“And Lieutenant” he says.

“”…yes?”

He picks the grey towel off the floor, “I noticed you did not follow my instructions”

“I had finished showering and —“

“—you will report to me tomorrow for your punishment” he looks you up and down, “and training”

You frown,“I have not agreed to be your apprentice”

He smirks. Kylo was never one for regulations and the world of bureaucracy. He did not extend himself to follow rules besides Snoke’s and his own. But creating rules, making orders and enforcing _his_ wants – now, that was Kylo Ren. With the way he was looking at you, you were going to become _very_ well trained.

He threads one hand through your hair and pulls your naked body tight to his. He breaths into your neck and the marks on your body hum in response. He will always have hands that could break a mans neck and eyes that bore into a persons soul. But the line between fear and arousal was becoming very thin for you.

His tight hold on your hair felt like the tight hold on your heart – blistering.

“It is not that sort of training” he whispers.

* * *

Kylo walks you to the interrogation room like he was walking a senator. Protective, body dwarfing yours as he guides you.

Several pairs of eyes follow, some hollow with long hours work, others dark with greed and anger: for you walk with the Commander while that flatten themselves against the walls and avoid his gaze. It was powerful to walk beside him. keeping up with him is a choir, but the looks – they were worth the hassle. Stormtroopers tilted their heads and Officer hunched inwards. If this was it felt like to be a Sith Lord you understand the temptation.

You look at Kylo.

You’ve been falling into temptation a lot.

Two knights were outside the interrogation room: Knight Ushar and Knight Cardo. They were both in black garb and helmets, but you could feel the energy change in their presence. It was subtle, minute, but would swear that force within Ushar spikes when you’re near. Whereas Ushar’s entertaining was lighter, almost playful, Cardo felt heavy? No, it was something else-

“What do you sense?” His voice manages to chill you still, his eyes more so.

Kylo was watching you. He did that often.

You look at the closed doors.

“I sense that I can’t interrogate through a wall”

He hands you a data pad, littered with text.

“Stick to these questions”

“If he hadn’t answered them the first time” you thumb through the questions, “I don’t think I’ll make a difference”

The Commander hauls you in with a hand around your waist and you think he’s going to kiss you. In front of the Knight – although Ushar has seen enough – and in front of the officers walking past. Your breaths mingle. The space between your mouths is wet, warm with perspiration and you lean in, tongue aching to like the plump of his lip.

Ushar clears his throat.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them, Kylo is smirking.

“Use your feminine touch” he says, as he slaps the button on the wall.

_You’re funny,_ you mock in your head, _real fucking funny._

You don’t know what you were expecting when the doors where open. For Hellford to be in some elaborate outfit with a bottle of merlot and a women on each arm, or a distressed, beaten shell of a man. Instead, you get the most relaxed prisoner you’ve ever met.

He’s strapped down tight, but his mind seems to float on another plan of existence, eyes alight with deep amusement. He has bruises around his eyes and one braid had been cut from whoever attempted to interrogate him first, still, when he sees your curious eyes, he smiles. From cheek to cheek, from dimple to dimple.

“Ah, the dove and the falcon, you have graced my presence—“ you roll your eyes, Hellford bird analogies were starting to lose their finesse, “—Kylo, it’s good to see you again, our encounter a few hours ago was so riveting” Hellford wink was slightly mocking and slightly lustful. You think it was a shame that you missed the first interrogation. These two personalities are so far apart that they may as well be north and south, “Shall we play again? I do _love_ to have my mind broken into”

“It’s not worth breaking into a vault if it’s empty” Kylo states, voice emitting low simmering anger.

“Very witty Kylo, truly” Hellford tries to roll his neck but it struggles against his restraints, “though I asked for the pretty one…you are not who I expected”

You thought Kylo was pretty. A little bit rough – very rough- but attractive. In the same way forrest fires are beautiful; pretty from afar but definitely wouldn’t want to be anywhere near it.

“You should not be getting what you asked for in the first place” Kylo walks around the restraints, “the First Order does not negotiate with prisoners”

“And yet…here we are” with limited movement Hellford spreads his hand. He was right, after all, you had come to him at _his_ request, “Is it because you could not crack me in a day? That must bother you-“ the prisoner laughs.

It’s cut off, chocking, his throat tightening. Kylo loans over him, looking down upon him like he was nothing but dirt, his arm outstretched.

His arm flexes with the movement and – if a man wasn’t going to die- you might have starred a bit longer. Hellford’s eyes start to roll back and your grab for Kylo’s arm. Your words of ‘ _enough’_ and ‘ _please’_ unable to penetrate Kylo’s fixation.

“Stop, Kylo” You step in-front or him, swinging his arm to the side, he raises his hand as if to hit you. But you stand still. He was strong enough to throw you, smart enough to know how infighting would look to a prisoner and irritable enough to ignore you anyway. You put a hand on his arm. His eye twitches - gaze low in the florescent light - and lowers his hand. 

The sharp energy was sucked out the room with a single movement. You can hear Hellford gasping. Each breath a struggle with the torso restraint. But your eyes were on the Commander.

Kylo’s nostrils flare. Being told ‘ _no’_ didn’t sit well with him and the façade of insufferable asshole slips into place. He grips your arm tightly to the point of being painful.

“Let me play his game” you whisper, “please”

“An hour”

“I understand” you say.

You watch Kylo leave, his shoulders looking more and more burdened every time you see him.

“You didn’t tell me your name that night” Hellford says.

You give it to him. Sometimes you have to give an animal a treat or they’ll bite your hand off. 

“It suits you little dove”

You sigh. Picking up the data pad.

“Why did you kill…” you hesitate, scrolling through the bunch of text you were given, “—203 storm troopers and 13 citizens?”

“Straight into the questions” he mutters, tutting under his breath, “I would have preferred some foreplay before the main event”

“You don’t deserve it”

“Ouch” he pretends to wince, “What questions do you really want to ask? Why I didn’t tell Kylo that I met you before? Or, why I gave you that deathstick? Or, whether I knew who you were from the moment I saw you?”

“Are you aligned with the Resistance?” You say, sticking to your script.

Hellford laughs with an eeriness that racks your bones. “Wrong! Try again”

“Are you related to a gang or terrorist organisation?”

“Did you enjoy our dance little bird?” He says, “I have spent my moments in her thinking of you in that gold dress it was like religious experience…” his eyes wander over your form and you know he’s imagining every curve,, “…seeing such beauty”

“Did you receive money as payment for crimes committed?” You say, the fire of annoyance burning within you.

“You are asking all the wrong questions” he sing-songs.

You throw the data pad down on a table, “What should I be asking about?”

“You, Kylo, the First Order – you should be asking about their crimes not mine”

“Me?” You scoff.

“Your crime is complacency” he smiles, “being pushed and pulled about like a captured animal”

He waves his hand forward, beckoning you closer and,when you obey, he whispers against the restraints.

“Whoever controls the leash controls the dog”

You throw your head away from him, a wave of anger rippling through you, “I won’t listen to a man who speaks in riddles”

“You know what i mean, you just don’t want to admit you do—“ he coughs then, choking where he had pulled against the restraints, “—do you think….that the one unknown force sensitive person on the Finalizer—“

_How the fuck did he know about that?_ You thought, _impossible._

“—just happened to end up on a mission with Kylo Ren? Now, what a coincidence that might be”

“He needed a guard—“ you defend.

“And did you guard him? Ever?” He raises an eyebrow and you realised that you didn’t, you actually caused more problems, “That man needs to be put down like a animal, too much power for a boy, but a guard - no, I don’t think he needs one of those”

“Now why would Snoke-the high power that he is- order a lowly Lieutenant to watch his prized pupil, hm?”

He knows to much and you know too little.

Hellford grins, watching your mind roam through ‘ _what ifs_ ’ and ‘ _maybes’_ and he was right, nothing made sense.

“A little girl, unbroken by life—“

“You do not know my life!” Your hands are shaking.

He hums, “Unsure in her own power—“

“You do not know my power!”

“A villains whore”

“And you do not know me!” You scream.

Before you knew what happened, you had raised your hand. Poised to strike.

“Be careful little puppy—“ his eyes watch your hand, but the smug smile never leaves his face, “—they may not collar you know, but they will. And then what will you do? With all your bark and no bite”

“I’m done with these metaphors and mind games”

“No games” he states.

“You said you would talk”

“I did not say what I would talk about…” he chuckles.

“Asshole”

“Consider this a gift. A first of many lessons…” his eyes are round and haughty, filled with a warmth that should be comforting. Instead it’s a venom working it’s way through your veins, “Look into why you were chosen, conduct research about yourself, you will realise that nothing is what you perceive it to be Sweetheart”

“I’m not your Sweetheart!” You grab the data pad.

“And you’re not his either” he calls as you move for the door, “and that bothers you”

All you could think was ‘ _Rey’._

“You entertain him now…” he says, “but how long before he gets bored of his new toy?”

Every word was like a knife in a open wound

“Have a great sleep Hellford—“ you open the door, “—In chains”

Even behind a closed door you could hear his voice. He was singing that incessant song again.

“ _Oh little bird, gone cold on a winters night, her wings all rotten from a nasty fight-“_

Kylo was gone. But the Knights were still there.

_Loyal hounds,_ you think.

“The Commander says he will see you tomorrow” Ushar says, strong in both stature and tone.

Whoever controls the leash controls the dog and you are no dog.

“Tell your Commander that I’m fucking busy” you push the data pad in Ushar’s hand, “and that if he wants to see me he can drag his juvenile, insatiable, horny ass to my desk. Where I will be doing my fucking job”

* * *

Your anger only dissipates around one person and you hurry to feel their warmth.

Levis room doubled as his personal workshop. If he was working, he was usually there, which made him easy to find when your need emotional guidance. You punch his code into the room and the door _hisses_ and opens.

_“_ I need- “ you start to say, but you come face to face with JD-1 with his panting removed and circuits on show on Levi’s bed, “-Oh fuck!—“ JD whirrs a ‘ _weeee’_ which is half embarrassed, half shocked“—sorry, shit, didn’t realise you were naked!”

“Here” Levi throws a blanket of JD-1, who gives a thumbs up in reply, “and thanks for knocking darling, I really love the open communication that we have”

“Sorry JD!” You say.

Levi’s sitting at his work bench. His hair is slightly mottled with grease or oil and there’s a bruise on his neck. His got his glasses on and you think you can see stubble - if you squint. He looks far away from the angelic boyish charmer you usually know. He gives you a light smile.

Levi points at your little droid, now a bundle of blankets, “I gave him access to the internet”

“Restricted access I hope, he’s not looking at any robot—“ you place a hand around the side of your mouth and spell ‘ _porn’_ with your lips _“—on my watch”_

_“_ I don’t think droids are sexual” he puckers his lips, “are they? Imagine the research-“ he catches your eye and you shrug, “anyways, you can’t have a droid who can’t use our systems”

“He’s perfect whether or not he’s useful” you state.

JD is making a whirring noise, muffled by his blanket.

“Okay I will” Levi’s says to him.

Levi holds up two paint swatches.

They looked exactly the same, but Levi excitedly waves them.

“We’re repainting him, what do you think? ‘pineapple delight’-“ he holds up a swatch of yellow paint “-or “lemon curd’” he holds ups a slightly darker yellow card.

You poke a swatch, “Lemon curd”

Levi points at JD, “Told you, ‘Lemon Curd’ just suits your circuits more”

JD rolls his one eye. He looks like a little old lady under that blanket and you bend down to wrap it tight around him, tying it around his body. Paint swatches wasn’t the only thing Levi was working on. You appraise his work bench. It’s covered in parts and shrapnel of new tech. You pick up some wonky shaped screw and Levi sucks in a loud breath. You put it back in it’s place.

“You look very busy” you say.

“Some of this bases have the worst fuel systems, one match to these things and they’ll blow up” he grimaces at a copper piece of equipment, “and you can’t tell people how to fix something if you can’t do it yourself”

“What a man” you smile and ruffle some of his honeyed curls with your hand, it’s fine, light and flows through your fingers like silk. He pushes his head into your hand, eyes closed and humming in his throat.

“Are we going to to play the game where I have to guess what you want?” He mumbles, letting his eyes close.

“That’s something I’m still trying to figure out”

You flop on his bed – JD-1 bouncing slightly when you hit the mattress- and you blow out a tight sigh. You hadn’t even started to consider how to answer Kylo’s question or tried to use the force. Your mind feels disconnected, floating away from your body on a lay line. Hellford’s jibbing making everything worse.

You were lost. There was nothing else to say.

The only time you didn’t feel lost was when you were in the Commanders arms and that was _dangerous._

“Can I—in theory, totally hypothetical— want to be an independent, working women and be a mans whore?…hypothetically” you bite your tongue, each word was another nail in your coffin.

“You said it was a hypothetical twice”

“Did I?”

“Jeez…” Levi rubs the bridge of his nose, “Look, wanting you be submissive during sex doesn’t make you less independent. It’s about given up control because you don’t want it in that moment, it also doesn’t mean you have to give up independence in your life—”

“I never said anything about being submissive” you interrupt.

“I saw your porn folder when I did diagnostics on your computer last year”

You put his pillow over your face and JD-1 buries himself under your arm, “…carry on”

“Giving up control is a choice, but it also doesn’t mean the other person has all the power”

“Meaning?” You say – JD beeping his interest into your side.

“Well…I don’t know how your bedroom antics go. But…” he moves his head side to side, Levi might be exuberant but, when discussing serious matters, he considers them deeply, “do you ever do something you know they won’t like to see their reaction? Or, do they look to you for confirmation of things? Just because you’re the submissive party doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice or the ability to make things turn in your favour”

“You can also want more than one thing” he lays back in the chair, “no matter how confusing it is”

Kylo. Hellford. Rey. Your freedom, your powers, your emotions.

Things are spiralling out of control.

“The problem is…I have a lot of wants and a lot of decisions to make”

“Better make some choices then” Levi says, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, “Things won’t happen if they don’t”

“When did you become so wise?”

“I’m getting old, too many rotations” he yawns, you can see the dark marks under his eyes. although he works himself to the bone, he’s definitely not old - exhausted, maybe- but still with all the youth of a youngling.

Asking him for your next favour may cause more sleepless nights.

“I may make things a little worse, if you accept my first choice” you say, sitting on your hind, “Can you do me a favour? Off the books?”

Levi grimaces, “I hate the way you said that”

“I want my file”

“What file?”

“This place has files on everyone, every tiny detail, you know they do” you state, watching Levi’s weary eyes, “Could you get mine?”

Levi’s face goes through a complicated myriad of emotions, ranging from “ _I think the fuck not’_ and ‘ _why I’m not used to this by now?”_ before settling on delayed acceptance.

“Fuck—“

“Please” you beg.

“Taking something like that…I’ll need higher level access codes, bypass high tech security, wipe data searches form my entire system and somehow get into the folders without it flagging the entire security decision…” you pout, fluttering your lashes, “…okay, but this a big risk…you’ll owe me”

“Till my dying days” you say, something said as a promise in childhood that continues every into your friendship now.

“Till my dying days” he replies.

You watch him fiddle with something before speaking, “Can I ask you something else?”

He drops what he’s holding with a sigh, “If you ask me what a ball gag is I swear—“

“If I was looking for information about something….old, historical, who would I ask?”

He leans back in his chair, his face a picture of an awkward school boy: cheeky, biting on his bottom lip and sucking in a deep breath.

“The one person you wouldn’t want to ask”

_Of course._

_“_ And darling…” Levi says, opening the yellow paint, “…don’t let him win all the time, sometimes the challenge can be really sexy”

If Ushar delivers your message, you have already set yourself up for a real challenge.

You quirk you eyebrow, mouth sly, “Speaking from experience?”

His reply was a breath-taking smile, but his eyes contained a secret – a secret that was locked so deep inside that you couldn’t reach it.

You hoped he wouldn’t end up like you; stuck between a knife and a cliffs edge - ready to jump.

* * *

Standing infront of this door was like walking to your hanging. Hitting it was a song of demise. Alika answered and you saw your noose.

“I need a—“

She slams the door in your face.

“—favour” you say to yourself, “Or not”

Kalea opens the door then.

“Sorry, she’s in a bad mood” she opens the door wide enough to see that the room has been split into. A side for each side of the coin, “Come in, Mintea? Rose water? Sunrise Café?” 

“No, thank you” you say.

Alika has laid back on her bed. Her side of the room was littered with weapon art. Old school historical pieces hanging from the wall – knives, guns, one terrifying looking grenade- scatterings of other sharp objects littered her beside table. Her sheets are dark and so are her eyes as she watches you.

Kaleas ‘side’ – her stuff took up more that her section- was an array of mismatch objects and old figures. There was a scattering of painted tea cups, some pictures of tapestry roughly taped to the wall and a collection of pins from the era of the Republic. One of them was an enamel depiction of Padme Amidala in a long purple dress, something that would be viewed as unpatriotic if it wasn’t for Kalea’s devotion. Plus - it makes you smile.

Military housing was meant to be function over form. Grey, plain, suited for purpose. You hoped no one ever saw this. They would tear it apart.

“She’s not here for drinks. She wants something” Alika growls, the sharp of her teeth poking out enough that you are tempted to cover your neck.

You use the table, placing your – recently grabbed - open data pad on it.

On it – the green swirl from the underground church .

“Oh, how….interesting?” Kalea’s tone is measured and, when you look at her, she’s turning her head this way and that way.

Alika comes to stand at the table, curiosity getting the better of her, “What are we looking at?”

“That’s what I want you to find out” Alika scoffs with more spit than sound and Kalea has one perfectly groomed brow raised, “if anyone knows history” you continue, spreading your arms and gesturing at Alika’s archaic weapon collection and Kalea’s hoarding of… _everything,_ “it’s you guys”

_“This?...”_ Kalea puckers her lips, _“_ This could be anything”

“A snail missing it’s head” Alika says.

“A foreign letter” Kalea returns.

Alika turns the pad around, “A lollipop without a stick”.

Kalea nods, “A gang sign”.

“Or a snail missing it’s head” Alika repeats.

“Thank you Alika, your help is greatly appreciated” you snap.

“We will—“ Kalea starts but Alika cuts her off with a gruff ‘ _don’t you fucking dare’_.

“We have a gala to prepare for, we don’t have time for your little side project” Alika says.

At your baffled look, she sighs.

_“_ The ball…the annual gala for First Order employees…there was an email about organising it?”

_Shit._ You open your emails – ignoring the 120 unopened in your inbox- and it was there. Kylo wanted his answer in a week. He would get it on the day of the gala, the same day where hundreds of First Order officials would be present, and where he could tell everyone what you are.

And you wouldn’t be able to run. Not with that many guns and generals.

_Shit._

The evil twin slurps loudly from her water bottle and gives you’re a _“_ Yeah, you’ve been regulated to decoration duty, congratulations”

Alika is officially the human embodiment of an itchy sweater, or a wet sock, _or_ a table where one leg is too short. Either way: she pisses you off.

“Where is it?” You ask.

Kalea smiles, even in the face of your stupidity she has such a sweetness, “Canto-“

“Fucking Canto” you interrupt, “I really don’t have time for decoration duty right now”

“Just throw some red banners up and call it a day” Alika states.

You laugh mockingly, “You’re a real pinnacle of advice”

“Tell me when you find anything” You state.

Alika cuts you off before you get to the door, the broad length of her shoulders boxing you in.

“We didn’t agree to do shit” she spits.

A quell of whispers flow into you mind, a burden of power springy into your fingertips. You could hurt her if you wanted.

You breath deeply, meeting her eyes.

“Then…consider it an order”

“You can’t order-“ she bites.

“Then take it up with the Commander” you say.

She shuts her mouth.

Power.

You could taste it.


	13. I Fucked My Way Into This Mess, I'll Fuck My Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the MacBook guy couldn't save my documents (I am now backing everything up) which means everything will be a re-write. I know most people didn't love the last chapter as it wasn't very Kylo-centric. however, this one is. 
> 
> As always this is my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22)
> 
> (BTW, if you want a oneshot written or any small requests please ask on my Tumblr and I will get it done!)
> 
> Chapter warnings: Kink negotiation (kinda) and exhibitionism (as usual)

Officer Laylan is competent, but slow, and you spend the start of the shift just explaining how to use the communications systems. It was a heady distraction from the fact that you had betrayed Kylo’s one instruction. Instead drinking two cups of caf, slinking back into the monotony of working life and playing the dutiful ‘decoration advisor’ – which you’re pretty sure was a punishment for _something,_ because what high level Officer gets decoration duty?

You lean back into your chair, spinning your data pad to show the baby Officer.

“What banner colour is better…” you say, “…Merlot or Berry?”

Laylan straightens his back like it’s a life or death question, squinting at the two colours and analysing with such a long stare that you think he would make a fine trainee – slightly dim, but you’ve had worse.

“I don’t think it matters Ma’am” he says, eyes downcast.

_Yeah,_ you think, _me neither._

You sigh, eyes swarmed with more variations of red that a wine distillery. “Well, it matters to someone”

You hear the blast doors _whirr_ , your skin itching with the feeling that has become recognisable in an instant. You should have known he would come looking for you. He is never one for patience. The urge to get up and greet him is embarrassing, it’s like an unholy compulsion to give him your attention – like greeting a child – open arms and eagerness. He has the same maturity level as one. 

Kylo is all dark lines and armour today and he feels _pissed._

“Leave” he scolds, voice distorted by his modulator.

Officer Laylan stands.

“No, sit down!” You bite. Laylan sinks back into his seat, stuck between a burning fire and a tidal wave, “Anything you want to say to me you can say in front my staff”

“Fine” he seethes, the tensions rising between you like it was the first time you met, “I wanted you naked, wet and bent over my desk an hour ago and yet I find you here. Care to explain yourself?”

You look at the Officer. They look back.

“…You can leave now”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Laylan scatters desperately to the door.

You turn in your chair, rubbing at the bridge of your nose.

“Dude--"

“Don’t call me that”

“—I’m on shift” you spit, standing at full height. You will always dwarf him, but a punch to the kidneys could do some serious damage.

“and I want you now…” he says. “…And yet you send Ushar to deny me”

So he did deliver your message. You smile wondering if he said it word for word. Kylo, however, is unimpressed by your splitting grin and lifts you by your thighs —ignoring your squeals of ‘ _we’re at work’_ — brushing all your papers aside with one sweeping hand and sitting you on your desk.

The black void of his mask looks down upon you, “I don’t stand for disrespect”

“You disrespected me in front of my trainee!” you point out.

“I told him to leave” His gloved hands grab your waist, holding you caged against the desk, “This is not a game you should be playing with me”

“What game?”

“The one of resistance. I am trained to quell just that” he states.

You try not to shiver, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just desperate to get to my job”

“You’ll try to deny me, and then you’ll want to seduce me” he mouths into the shell of your ear, “And then you will act above it all and play the abiding Officer, when I know…” he runs his hands over your waist “…that you are the furthest thing from rule abiding”

You couldn’t deny you did that. Danced between wanting him, playing the temptress and submitting, and pushing him away, testing his boundaries and trying resist everything you want. Whether it be in the name of professionalism or to protect your own heart. But now, now he could seek you out, now he knew what you are and now, you need to start making _choices._

“Later” you look at the door that Officer Laylan is still standing outside, “Fuck, I promise, okay?”

“Hm, I’m not sure…” he runs his hands along your inner thighs, so large that you may be starting to develop a size kink, or a Kylo kink, “…Maybe I will take what I’m _owed”_

His grip tightens until he is bruising your thigh and you quell the urge to moan.

“Please” you beg, “ _Commander_ ”

The sigh can be heard though the modulator and you match it in relief.

“Tonight” he pulls your chin, “I _will_ know where I stand”

* * *

_Whore,_ you thought. Standing outside the Commanders room, his code still imbedded in your memory, and, after a last-minute thought, wearing new lacey underwear. _A dumb whore,_ you add, punching in his code.

He’s sitting at a small table when you enter, long legs crossed, embedded in a set of documents that were not meant for your eyes. He does not look up. He — you realised — knew you had been standing outside that door for the last five minutes, whipped into a mental breakdown by your own stupidity.

“Sit down” he grunts, eyes on his data pad. When you go to move towards the chair opposite him, he hisses through his teeth, “Not there”

He points to the floor by his seat.

“Fuck you” you spit

You’ve said that so much that he must be used to it, because he just rolls his eyes.

“I think I deserve obedience after this morning” he says, “Don’t make me wait”

You eye the floor, body aching to run or resist.

“Fuck” you bite, “Fine”

You walk around the table and sink to you knees next to him.

“We will discuss everything when I’m finished”

He had food on the table and you could recognise what it was by smell alone. Probably because such luxuries were few and far between; it was chocolate. Squares of white chocolate laid geometrically on a plate. Kylo didn’t seem like a white chocolate eater, and, by the way none of the pieces had been touched, he probably wasn’t.

He runs his gloved finger over your lips. “Open”

Greed compels you and you do want a taste of expense (who were you becoming?). You let your lips part and he slips a square between your mouth. It’s slightly soft, melting quickly on your tongue. It sweet — almost _too_ sweet — but you love it, and, the next time he reaches towards your lips, they are already open and waiting.

He continues to feed you as he works. Delving into a rhythm that has you waiting for his hand. When the plate is finished, you sit back on your ankles, watching him type, frown and sigh.

He puts the datapad to the side. Turning to watch you, you, who was already staring up at him.

“Do you see what you get if you obey me?” he says, staring at the line of your lips.

You frown, “Is this what you meant by training? Getting me on my knees when _you_ want it”

“No, your training starts when you have agreed to a set of rules, rules you and I both set, if that is what you want” he summarises, “I have constantly asked you what you want and you have battled me”

_No, you refused to give me what I asked for_ , your mind supplies.

“Tell me now and it will be done” he states, but his mouth seems to roll his next words over, “Do you want…” he pauses, “ _this?”_

_Oh,_ you thought. He was not asking what you want from life. He was asking if you wanted _him_. His face twitches, his jaw grinding. You power reaches out, thin tendrils, not looking into his mind but looking for a feeling. Only one called for you — _insecurity._ He was worried that you would say no.

The Commander was still a man, was still human, despite what people think.

You think of your life without him in it. Imagine what you go back too. Imagine the longing of waiting for his eyes.

And you knew you couldn’t go back.

“ _Yes”_ your voice was breathy, and you would be shyer, if it wasn’t for the pure pleasure in the Commanders eyes.

He clears his throat.

“You wanted rules before—"

“And you broke them” You interrupt.

He lets his legs fall apart, studying you with an academic interest. “We write new ones. Ones that I expect you to follow”

“Can I write rules for you?” 

He shifts his weight, the muscles in his legs tightening. You realise he’s hard. The simple act of you being on your knees — sucking the chocolate of his fingers — having him pushing against his jeans; a pavolovian response. Kylo’s pupils are blown as he looks down upon you, his hair falling delicate around his face, his lips, shiny and slick.

“Yes” he grits, pushing his hand through your hair.

He stands up. His eyes so heavy that they pin you to the ground, and sits back at the table with a pen, red ink and a single reel of parchment.

“You will come to me when I call you” he starts writing it before you can object and you decide that this rule _obviously_ isn’t up for debate.

“Fine” you say, “If I can do the same”

Kylo Ren; boss and booty call.

“Greedy” he states it with a sense of pleasure. He seems to enjoy turning you into a desperate woman, drooling for his every touch.

But he writes it. You try to look, see what his writing is like, but he pushes you head down onto his thigh. Stroking an unconscious rhythm through your hair. Hellford called you a ‘ _puppy’_ but right now you feel like a pampered cat. The word ‘ _collar’_ flashes through your mind and you can’t stop the way your cheeks burn.

You hear the pen stop and, when you look up, he’s watching — waiting. Waiting for you to provide something.

“I…” your roll the words in your mouth, knowing what you wanted to ask for, but not knowing how to ask for it. “…I don’t want…I would like…”

He grips you chin, forcing eye contact. “You’re not one who’s usually lost for words”

“I don’t want you to see other people”

You expected shock, or for him to push you away. For the name ‘ _Rey’_ to fall out of his mouth — it doesn’t.

“Agreed” He says, pen back on paper.

“Just like that?”

“I have no interest in anyone else” he remarks.

_I know you do_ , you thought, _you liar._

He watches your cheeks redden, _“_ I expect you to do the same”

“Ah yes, because General Pryde and General Roye are _such_ sex icons” you say. He gives you a dirty look, cross between confusing and disgust, “I’m saying I don’t like anyone here, it was sarcasm”

“I’m well versed in sarcasm”

It is his main source of communication after all.

“You always look at me like you’re confused” you pout and he pinches your bottom lip.

“You are a bizarre little thing…” it should be an insult, but his eyes are light. You nip his finger with the edge of your teeth. “…the third rule, you will learn a list of hand signals that I would provide you with”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Too lazy to talk?”

“No” he pushes his thumb into your, eyes darkening as he watches you suck on it. “It’s so that if I want you to fuck yourself in public, I won’t have to shout it over the dinner table”

_Exhibitionist,_ you thought, but you couldn’t deny the race of your heart. A language between the two of you. Sexually deviant and personal. Bring you to your knees with just a beckoning of his fingers, it shouldn’t thrill you so much, but you have butterflies _everywhere._

His mouths tick up, “The forth—“

“There are so many!” you were impatient now, talking was taking too long.

“—you will join me for the Generals dinner tomorrow night”

Now _that –_ that was different.

“Are you…?”

You didn’t want to say ‘ _asking me out’_ , that feels too minimal for what to two of you are. Instead, you rest your chin on his thigh, your knees slightly sore now.

“Yeah, that’s…dandy” you say.

_Who the fuck says ‘dandy’?_ you think.

“Good. I will have clothes delivered”

You can’t help but giggle, “Are you sugar daddying me?”

“Do you like it?” He asks. You were never good at hiding your emotions and everything must be written on your face because he leers, dragging his hand back over your scalp. “Ah, you do”

Kylo runs his fingers over your cheek. “I guess I must give you more things, if it makes you less difficult”

“Does it bother you…” you stall, pushing your cheek into his hand, “…that I’m ‘ _difficult’_ ”

“I like when you obey me” he says, licking his lips,“and I like when you fight me. Because I know, underneath that naughty mouth, that you want me to make you submit.” You blush because that was hitting the nail on the head. “That leads us to the last rule — punishments will still exist, at my discretion, for not obeying my orders”

You think of his touch on Canto, how his hits blurred the line between pain and pleasure so easily. “And if I act out because I want to be punished?”

He knows what you’re thinking, you can tell. “Then I’ll get creative with my punishments”

“At work—“ you start.

He grabs your hair, pulling it back and halting your mouth. “Your working life is your own. You can exercise your power outside of this room anyway you want”

“Even if I use it to fight with you?”

Grip on your hair tightening, he smirks.“As long as you are aware of the consequences”

“Which are?”

“That you won’t be turning up for your shift the next day”

He thoughts flow into your mind like liquid. Images of you tied to his bed, left for hours with a vibrator to your clit while he brings you to the edge — over and over and over. How he would leave you there, your cum still drying on your skin while he answered calls, and did anything but pay attention to you. The way you would whine and cry, begging — _please, please, please —_ until your mouth goes dry and all you can do is choke.

He looks at you, letting the images flow through your mind until you answer him. “Is that a threat, or a promise?”

“Which one do you want it to be?” he quips.

This was humour. He was having proper, flirty banter with you. His lips twitch up -- only slightly-- but you thought his real smile must be something beautiful. What must it take to get Kylo Ren to smile? you wonder.

You scoff and he smirks.

“Do you agree to my terms?”

You nod.

He pulls your head back, lowering his lips until they were and inch from yours. “Say it”

“Yes, Commander”

He’s satisfied, You feel it in his energy and the smooth wave of force that rolls of him.

“We’ll start now”

“Now?” you stutter, his hands pulling you up from the ground to stand in front of him.

“Strip”

You don’t hesitate. Undressing with military precision, folding your uniform and placing it on the table. He was a man who respected neatness. You go to take off your bra and he stops you with a single raise of his hand.

“I’ve wanted you since you walked through that door” he ‘ _hmms_ ’ watching your chest heave, the pebbling of your nipples and the strips of lace covering barely anything, “…this skimpy lingerie…” he puts a finger along the edge of your panties, flicking them. “…did you plan to seduce me?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t be seduced” you sass.

“Clever girl” he moans, leaning back into the chair, “Maybe I’ve changed my mind”

He opens his legs — looks pointedly at his thigh — and smiles.

“You know what to do. You have done it before”

This definitely was not the time for nostalgia. But you can still remember the feeling of his thigh, the way it rubbed you perfectly. The beginning of your fall from grace.

You put your hand at the edge of your underwear, and, at his nod, pull them to the side, slipping your pussy on to his thigh. It’s hard and the material is rough, and, yet, your know exactly how to roll your hips. How to hit the spot over and over.

You reach to touch you clit, push it with your forefinger but he grabs your hand, tight enough that you groan.

“You can cum like this or not cum at all” he grunts, the tenor of his voice chilling your skin, your hips jumping at the deep command.

You whimper, trying to find some sense of balance in your body – fingers itching to touch your clit and his simmering stare making your body roll harder, chasing something you can’t reach.

“Filthy whore” he bites, “You’ll do anything I want, won’t you?”

You would.

“You have ruined me” he moans, watching your tits move, “I wake aching to fill you, dream of _this—”_ he rubs the edge of your cunt and you gasp, _“—imaging the way you felt around me, so fucking wet’_

“Can anyone touch you like I can?” you shake your head, head rolling back, “No, I didn’t think so”

“You love to show off. Just look at you—” he pulls your head back, “— _look”_ you did, watching the puffy, swollen edges of your cunt try to swallow his thigh, “Just like Vandor. I can still see that way you fucked yourself in that pretty little nightdress. Pretending to still be so pure, but this cunt—” he stares at your pussy, watching it wet his trousers, smothering his thigh completely “—It never lies”

There’s sweat pooling at your brow, slipping down the side of your face and mixing with your tears. Kylo brings his tongue up your neck to lick the sweat, growling against your check when you rub down _hard — he could do it,_ you think, _make you cum like this._

“My dirty little slut, aren’t you?” you nod, and he grabs your hair pulling it back until you whimper, “Answer me when I ask you something”

“Yes, Commander” you grit.

“What are you?”

“A dirty whore— ah fuck — a slut” he pulls your hips down, slamming his thigh up the meet you clit and you think you might cry, “Fuck, Kylo—— please just let me” you grab at his hair, using it as an anchor for your body. “I’m yours. I’m your little fuck toy, please — just let me”

You wanted to cum, desperately. So desperately, that you speed up. Grinding your cunt like you were possessed. Until you could hear the sounds of your own cunt — sloppy against his muscles.

“That’s right, I knew what you were from the moment I met you. I could feel your darkness—” he mouths your neck, just skimming it with his teeth, “—your temptation—” he wraps a hand around your throat, “—what you could become. With me”

He squeezes your neck and you’re split apart. Drooling as you fuck his thigh through your orgasm. His trousers so slick that you can push though your shakes with eases, the ridges rubbing through your folds painfully.

Coming down from your high you grasp for Kylo’s zipper. He had been doing everything for you recently and—

_“No”_ his frowns, grabbing your hand in his, _“_ You get this when you agree”

“I’ve agreed to all your rules” you pout, leaning for his zipper once more but his grip tightens, sheathing your hand.

His answering smile is dirty, “When you’ve agreed to be my apprentice”

You don’t know why you thought Kylo would play fair, he never did.

He has a habit of getting what he wants, one way or another.

Just before you leave to your room, he grabs your hand, taking your thumb, dragging it through the red ink and pushing it onto your paper of rules.

A blood red fingerprint.

_Blood,_ you think, _that should be the colour of the banners._

* * *

The dress arrives, the next day, in a black box. Delivered by Knight Ushar — looking fed up of being Kylo’s messenger — who pushes into your hand without a glance.

Levi and JD-1 sit on your bed while you change, then you stand, arms at your sides, in front of the mirror.

It’s black. And simple. But it’s very… _Ren._

The fabric covers you neck and arms, but, just underneath your sternum, sits a triangle cut-out. A small slither of skin that feels far more sexual than it should. Your left leg is exposed and Levi whistles as you twirl, the silky flash of thigh a sinful inclination. A taste test before the main meal.

It is a powerful dress. A queens dress. A Sith dress.

“Who made that little number? You look like a model” Levi mock fans himself.

You lift the bottom of the skirt. And there – sewed in pink thread – sits the name ‘ _Jeninne’_.

“A friend” you say, your cheeks burning.

He had ordered this in Canto. He had thought of dressing you. He had thought of _you._

_“_ Well, will you take another gift from a friend?” Levi says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, “Now, remember, my family has run a criminal syndicate for an empire, so we’re not short on money”

Crimson Dawn was a lot more than a crime syndicate and the Vos family did far more than run it. But you keep your mouth shut. Levi didn’t speak about his family often and you didn’t ask.

He reached underneath the bed, pulling out a plain white box – a designer box— and inside sat a cerulean handbag, covered in gold foliage and swinging by gilded chains.

“Levi…” you sigh, “…I can’t take that”

“You can’t go to a fancy dinner without a fancy handbag” He states, standing up the hold it next to your dress. It worked perfectly. “Take it, and go own the room”

He hooks it over your shoulder.

The mirror reflects a different image of you than the stuffy, uniformed women you’re used to. It has regality, and sexuality and you looked like--

“Do I look a mistress?” you say.

Levi chuckles. “Definitely”

JD-1 gives you two thumbs up which is all the conformation you need.

* * *

A room had been re-decorated, things moved to the side so there was a long black table. You stand outside the open door, watching the candles flicker and burn in the low light. The fancy cutlery Is out — red crystal decanters and well-polished cutlery — and you bristle at the blatant use of military funds.

A few of the Generals watch you as they enter the room and you wished you had come with Kylo, rather than waiting for him.

A hand touches your waist.

Kylo is in a black military garb. Far less decorated than you, and, by the awkward look on his face, he is stuffy, uncomfortable and slightly unsure.

“Oh, I see” you mock, watching the stony frown on his face, “you needed a buffer”

He straightens his jacket as more Officers pass, some of them looking at the hand on your waist with a dark interest. You polish one the buttons of his jacket. You would not be scared by a bunch of men in suits, after all, you sit at the right hand of the Commander now.

They can’t touch you.

He scoffs, watching your hands fix his jacket in place. “I can handle the generals just fine”

“Yeah, when you’ve got your glow stick—“

“Lightsaber”

“— and a scary mask on. But _this,_ the politics and small talk, you hate it”

His left eye twitches.

“Poor Commander, scared of a little talk about the economics on Coruscant?” you jib.

He pulls you close to him by the small of your back, the silk of the fabric not hiding the heat of his hand or the way it covers a large portion of your back. “Watch yourself”

“What are you going to do?...” you mock, still thrumming with the sexual tension of yesterday, “…Punish me?”

Another Officer walks past and you lower your eyes. You had forgotten where you are.

“I see through your taunting” he says, “Do you like the dress?”

You give him a show, spinning in a slow circle, the show of your thigh purposeful.

“Do you?”

He glides his eyes down your body, not hiding the lust in his eyes in the slightest, “I like what is under it far more”

“I do say Commander, it sounds like your hitting on me”

He shakes his head. Mumbling under his breath. But you catch the word ‘ _ridiculous’_ and can’t help but smile.

“Please, take your seat Commander” a sever beckons from the entryway. The others already seated.

You look to him and he looks at you: matching energies.

Kylo offer his arm, and, against your better judgement, you take it.

He’s not the only one who needs a social crux.

You should have expected the stares. The way they follow you as Kylo guides you to your seat, you could also feel more, the force whipping through your mind. Jealousy. Anger. Disgust. Lust. It was so intermingled that you couldn’t tell what belonged to who. All you could feel was Kylo’s arm.

General Hux bares his teeth when he sees you, and you know he’s desperate ask why you were here, at the table not meant for you. Sitting next to his rival.

General Pryde and General Roye are there — older members, powerful members — and Roye nods at Kylo when he sits down next to him, pulling out the chair for you to take his right side.

The bitter arguments start almost instantly, from the moment the starter hits the table, the fights break out. Discussing of the Resistance, of diversion of troops, of faults in Stormtrooper training.

You sit there. Sneaking more hors d’oeuvres on to your plate when no one is looking, and, when Kylo looks away, you take his too, stuffing it into your cheek.

“Maybe if you cut this ridiculous gala, we would have more money to make sure our barricade are secure!...” General Roye screams at a lower officer across the table, and you raise your head to catch the conversation, “…we do not need to waste on fancy parties, our officers should be putting their blood into this war”

_Hypocrite_ _,_ you think and Kylo turns to catch your frowning mouth. You match his eyes — waiting for permission or something else — he nods.

“General Roye…” you start, and the wrinkled specimen of a man turns to look at you, “…did you spend a lot of time as an officer before you were promoted?”

He puffs his chest out, “No Ma’am, I was promoted in two weeks”

“Then I don’t believe you can speak for the staffs dedication” you snip, and Kylos hand comes to link with yours under the table. “Nor can you understand the importance of downtime”

Kylo squeezes your hand.

“If you do not allow periods for relaxation the staff will suffer from burnout. Exhausted staff make stupid mistakes. In the last two months we have dealt with more staff injuries, on the jobs mistakes and faulty engineering works. Having downtime is the only way they can create positive changes when on the floor” you say .

“So we should allow our _inferiors —“_ he spits, _“_ —to dilly-dally though the day when this war is a constant and overwhelming plight on our ships”

“With all due respect, _General_ , but you have had six holidays in a the space of five months—” General Royes opens his mouth and shuts it again when you hold up one finger, “—most of you have taken long spans of leave without justification, leaving us _inferiors_ to pick up the slack. Allowing more downtime would be possible…” you hear a few officers clear their throats, “…if our generals were there to do their jobs, no? Eight-hour shifts would be viable without the need for overtime, if you had enough staff on each ship, created a viable rota and had well trained staff to manage newer officers”

“Instead you allow us to drill ourselves into the ground with thirteen hours shifts, constant overtime and shocking leadership and look where you are…” you gesture to the hors d’oeuvres, “…bickering around a plate of food that this staff have worked very hard to make, in a room which the engineering staff ensure is safe and well lit and on a ship which is now being run by the very people you deem inferior…”

You lean back into your chair, the room gone eerily silent without your voice to fill it.

“…With the very people who do nothing about it”

“Enough” Hux chimes in, his hands gripping at the table, “We have come together for dinner, not a debate”

The main course arrives. Distracting the generals from your triage, but not quelling the burning rage that simmers in your chest.

They did not see Levi’s exhaustion, or the Officers who look more like walking skeletons than people, or the children they allow to be abused as long as it fits their agenda. But it is not that they do not see, they do see, they just wilfully ignore it, turning a blind eye when it’s suits them.

“Interesting young lady you have bought with you Ren” it was General Pryde who speaks.

Apparently, the conversation doesn’t include you anymore.

You look at the weird bread-seafood mesh on you plate and roll your eyes. It was about two forkfuls. Tiny portions for men with tiny dicks.

“I think so” Kylo says, which —to you— was almost a stellar review.

“A little…. _revolutionary,_ don’t you think?” He says ‘revolutionary’ like it’s a dirty word, bristling your back and making you itch with the need to slap the smug look of his face.

“There’s nothing revolutionary about ensuring the First Order works at the highest level…” Kylo states, leaning back into his chair, legs spread, “…is that not what we strive to do?”

“Yes…yes, of course, Commander” General Pryde says, giving you a filthy look.

General Pryde — Zero. You — One.

You bask in your glory and Kylo places a comforting hand on your leg 

His hand rests on your thigh, sneaking his fingers along your bare skin In small circles, a little thing that shouldn’t make your heart skip quickly. It’s only when his fingers skim further up your leg that you realise exactly where this is going.

You choke on your bread.

“Do try to swallow your food” Hux spits — full of unrestrained venom — across the table.

You smile bitterly. “Thanks for the advice, I’ll keep it in mind”

The hand moves again, rubbing up the corner of your panties.

“Kylo” You whisper, slapping his hand away lightly, “Not here”

“Didn’t you make me a promise?...” he murmurs back, wetting his lips, “…you agreed to my terms”

Before the force used to burn through you, to the point of giving you a headache. Now his voice worms its way into your mind with ease.

_And after your speech, I want to enjoy you now,_ he says, sharp and clear.

_“_ Am I in trouble?” you whisper, covering your mouth with your hand.

_The exact opposite_

The force — it’s there — dragging up your inner thighs. Deep touches that massage into your muscles and slip over your damp underwear. It rubs over your clit, just pushing against the material and you swallow a groan.

He was playing with you. Light probing touches, that rub your wetness over you. Cunt clenching without anything to fill it and you try to catch Kylo’s eyes. The feeling changes, instead, you feel the bend of a sharp nose, the soft tufts of hair and a warm, wet mouth.

_What would they say if they knew what a filthy little slut you are? Hm?_

His voice was there and the fake imitation of his form was mouthing at your clit.

_If they knew how you let the force fuck you? Or how you daydream about my tongue inside of this—_ The force changes shape, feeling less like a pressure and more like a silken _tongue —tight pussy?_

It felt like he was there. Eating your pussy in front of the entire superior office. Like his tongue was lapping at your clit while his fingers bruise your hips, holding you against his nose as though he could swallow you whole. The warmth of his tongue, his breath on your cunt - you could feel it all.

_It’s not real,_ you think, trying to take grounding breaths.

_But look at your thirsty pussy, fucking dripping onto the chair_ , he’s voice is so clear in your mind and you can feel his want. The way he craves to put his dick in you, claim you in front of everyone.

Kylo has scrunched the slit of your dress, eyeing your damp underwear with a desire that has you spreading your legs. You would let him look at you, you always would. At the way your cunt is shiny with slick, swollen with the need for his touch. He pushes your panties aside, just enough you want the slick mess stick to your underwear, just enough that — if anyone looked —you would be exposed.

The energy spreads. It punches at your nipples, digging in until it feels like teeth, bruising and grabbing at your tits like a man unhinged.

_He is unhinged_ , you think. _An animal._

It rubs through the stick mess of your cunt, you mouth desperate to mew and moan when it pushes harshly against your bundle of nerves.

The force paints circles on your pussy, your legs shaking and jaw aching from the need to scream. There are fingers of power working their way inside you, searching for something, Crocking and rolling in your folds. You hoped he wouldn’t find it, wouldn’t leave you a whimpering mess before dessert had even been served.

You keen his name in your mind. Begging for…for anything.

The forces moves. Bending up until it hits—

“ _Fuck”_ you sigh.

_—_ just _there._ He starts drilling into you, rolling the force with painful diligence into your cunt, so hard that you slam your knees into the table.

“Are you okay, miss?” A server asks, laying down a cream cake on your plate. Kylo has moved the table sheet over you and you thank the maker for his foresight.

“Sorry…” you whimper, feeling the force pinch and pull at your clit, “…I’m just feeling a bit...under the weather”

The force was stretching you, swelling in size till it feels gigantic. Borderline ripping you apart and you grit your teeth.

_Don’t,_ you think. But he’s lost. His eyes are glassy when they meet yours and raises his glass in a mocking toast. You dig your nails into his thigh: a warning to end this now before you’re too far gone.

He doesn’t. 

The force was growing to the size of his cock. Each ridge, the slight curve, the pure thickness — you could feel it all. And you hold yourself in a desperate attempt not to roll against it. He sets a punishing pace and you slip a spoon into your mouth just to muffle your cries. The pain on your clit does not subside – pushing, rubbing, grabbing — until your ready to let go.

_Cum_ , he groans in your mind, _my filthy whore_

You clench your teeth on the spoon, feeling the pleasure rip through you so fast you dig your nails sharply into the meat of this thigh. Feeling him tense under the pain and sway under your pleasure. Each shock wave causing you to roll your hips until the force holds you still — an attempt at normalcy — as your cunt floods with pleasure.

_I bet you taste so sweet._

You blush, eyes now wandering over the Generals who now seem distract by some historic war story.

_Do something for me princess._

Your skin was hot, sweat beading at the brow, but the mention of _that_ nickname —one you hadn’t heard in so long —has you flushed.

_Rub your pussy with your finger. Get it nice and wet._

You obey. The aftershocks are racking your body so harshly that it hurts to touch. But it’s a good pain. A pain you would indulge if you had the time. 

_Good girl,_ You can feel the burning power of the force clearly, pushing his words sharply into your mind. _Now put some of the cream on your finger. Be quick. You don’t want anyone to see your dirty little fingers, do you?_

You obey.

_Lick it._

You push the finger into your mouth, Kylo’s thigh tensing, chest inhaling sharply.

He didn’t think you would do it.

You roll you tongue over it — despite the cream long dissolving — and suck harshly, indenting your cheeks.

_“_ How do you find the dessert, Lieutenant?” Kylo asks.

“Very…” you meet Kylo’s molten eyes, his breathing harsher than before, like he can’t remember how to act normal, how to be unaffected. You pause. Acting like you’re mulling over your words.

You smile. “Sweet”

You were thankful when dinner ends, your release still drying along your underwear. You feel it when you shake everyone’s hands, smile at their faces and complement their intellect and you feel it when Kylo brushes his hand along your thigh.

General Roye sits and stare at you, and when you offer to shake his hand, he shrugs it off.

As he gets up to leave, you notice a small white shape on his seat — an access keycard. You should run after him and give it back. Or hand it to someone to who cares enough to return it to him. Instead, you grab it, shovelling into your pretty bag under the tablecloth.

“Lieutenant” Kylo states from the door, “Come”

_Yes,_ you think. _I think I will_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Readers Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a7/db/9d/a7db9df57686f27e1619c9d5002fd6f7.jpg)


	14. The Statute of Eros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is named after a very simple love poem by Zenodotos which says "Who carved Love and placed him by this fountain, thinking he could control such fire with water?" because if that isn't an explanation of their whole relationship I don't know what is. 
> 
> Someone messaged asking about my characters sexualities (now, I like to think no one gives a shit in space and just likes whatever they like, but I'll try to explain it in an earthly way):
> 
> Kylo: likes people who scream at him.  
> Lieutenant: Kylo  
> Levi: Bisexual, by usually prefers men.  
> Alika: wants sex but hates people, (her own reflection)  
> Kalea: Has no idea  
> JD-1: rocks and shiny things. 
> 
> (sidenote: i do have a lesbian and non-binary character planned but they come in a lot later)

Radio silence.

You sign your name on the dotted line and what do you get in return? — silence.

No aggressive pulls into hallways. No datapad commands. No secret rendezvous’.

You stick notes to your walls while JD-1 and Levi watch from your bed. Aggressively stabbing pins into a corkboard so hard that they bend. A day of silence isn’t _bad._ People have lives. He’s a Commander—

A page rips.

—but he _should_ pay attention to you. Or at least send a ‘ _busy today! Hope you have a great morning_ ’ message (Okay, so the message would be slightly out of character, but it would be a start)

“The energy is this room feels very threatening” Levi says, voice cautious, “And your walls look you’ve hit a psychotic break”

You stand back. If psychopathy equates to being a genius — then maybe he’s right. When stuck with pieces of a puzzle, you should put the pieces you have together and then find the gaps. This was your puzzle. Scattering of post-its with everything you knew tangled together on a web of thread.

You were sure that all of this was paramount to your understanding.

_And it keeps him off your mind_ , you thought.

“Okay” you spread your arms, “Here’s what we know”

“One—” you slap you hand on the scan of the symbol, “— The weird church, the symbol and Hellford must be connected somehow”

Levi scoffs, “Bit obvious”

“Please don’t interrupt my rambling I’m already this close…” you hold your forefinger and thumb an inch apart, “ …to a mental spiral”

“Two” you point towards a post-It that just said ‘Kylo’ in black capitals, “Kylo wants to fuck me but doesn’t have the emotional capacity for anything else”

It was cruel. After all, he bought you dresses and asked for your consent with everything. But that was a base line achievement. You wanted a “ _let me tell you how much I love you, lay underneath the stars and bath in a pink hue_ ” kind of romance. Whereas, it was a ‘ _what’s the minimal amount of emotional validation I need to give you to keep you on my dick?’_ kind of partnership.

‘ _Partnership_ ’ being the operative word. Not ‘ _relationship’_ , not ‘l _overs_ ’ and certainly not ‘ _boyfriend and girlfriend’_. The last one felt uncomfortable to even think.

You hold out an open palm. “And no, before you ask, I don’t think the dinner counted as a date”

“Aren’t dinners and fighting the patriarchal oppression of women and classism a date?” he says, sipping Deychin tea.

“I know you read, Levi” you poke his forehead, “Don’t show off”

“Yes Ma’am”

Levi had given JD-1 a plastic cup too, and, when you give them a dirty glare, they both lift their cups in sync. ‘Droid teacher’ seem to be Levi’s new past time, as JD-1 pretends to sip from his empty cup, sighs and — in the most sarcastic tone a robot could manage — whirrs ‘ _yes ma’am’._

Giddy, Levi knock his cup against his with a lop-sided grin.

“Three. There is possibility that I was put on the mission with Kylo for a reason”

“What could that be?”

“There is a reason that it’s just a post-it-note on a board…” you circle the board with your hands, “…I don’t know. However, possibly answers include: we’re a really hot pair and someone recognised that, I’m so smart they had to pick me or someone was hoping Kylo would kill me before I could come back”

There’s gurgling and Levi splutters on his tea.

“I don’t think any of that is right”

“Four—” you reach for the highest note, fingertips missing in, “—I put this one up here when I was standing on stool”

Levi stands, the tall, lanky man that he is and hands it to you.

You open the note in your hand. It says, ‘ _hot prisoner’._ “Four. Hellford somehow knows everything and refuses to tell me”

“He’s a prisoner. His information is keeping him alive. He’s not just going to _tell_ you”

You nod. But, if anyone would get him to talk, it was you.

Grinning, you slap the note on the desk. “I’ve been told I can be quite charming and persuasive”

“By who? A compulsive liar?”

You pout and hear JD-1 titter.

Levi stands to survey the board.

“You said this was a board of stuff you know” he murmurs, “But you don’t know anything”

“Your moral support is noted” you slap his arm, “Remind me to put ‘Levi is an unsupportive asshole’ in your eulogy”

“Only if I can put ‘slut for big lightsabers’ in yours”

You chuff, “Deal”

“So, what happens now?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “No fucking clue”

“He’s on the Supremacy by the way. Meeting with Snoke” Levi says, smile evident in his tone. He had General Royes keycard now — thanks to you — and he could see _everything._ Every move someone made could be shown to him.

“You weren’t being ignored” he adds.

“I didn’t say anything”

He pets you on the head, “but you were thinking it”

_Thoughts can be revealing,_ Your traitorous mind surmises.

You look at your bin. The one holding the note you didn’t dare touch.

The one that said ‘ _apprentice’._

You had only got part way through your ‘ _should I become a Sith apprentice?_ ’ pros and cons list — the only pro on it being ‘ _more sex?_ ’ — when you finally get a message;

_Come to me._

You were dressed in civilian clothing ready for more rounds of ‘ _how can I ruin my psyche?_ ’, but, you had made a deal. Though, this message wasn’t exactly the peak of romance. At the most, you hoped for a _‘please’._ You left JD-1 charging his battery and slither through the corridors with _utmost professionalism._

You had expected a greeting of wandering hands and salacious smirks.

You definitely had not expected a broken Commander, hands gripping his abs, shit ripped and blood sinking into the bed bellow him.

It was literally the _opposite_ of what you were expecting

His data pad is thrown aside, ravaged in red fingerprints, on it was the message he sent you.

“Fuck — shit, Kylo — we need a droid” you scramble to his bedside, hands clenching and unclenching with tension, “Or I can take you the Medbay—”

“No.” he grunts, rolling himself into a sitted position.

“Don’t you ‘ _no_ ’ me!”

“That’s an order—”

You role your eyes, “Fucking hell”

“You _have_ done medical training” the way he says it is in limbo between a statement and a question. Half-way between hopeful and desperate.

“Yeah!” you squeak, “Two weeks learning the recovery position and basic CPR”

Training was more guns than gurneys and more blasters than bacta.

“Can you sew?” he grunts.

You shrug. You could sew a button on or fix a rip in your uniform, more out of necessity than talent.

“That will do”

“Are you insa—”

Something in him pulls, blood pouring over his hand until it looked like an iron deficiency waiting to happen. His undershirt was sticking to the wound, and, as he pulls at it, blood flows freely down his lower abs.

“Shit.” You say, resigned to your fate of “Okay, I need to cut that. Scissors?”

“Top left drawer”

You pull out a drawer full of stationary, “This one—”

“No. Left”

“This is left” you snap, pulling out another drawer.

“Can you not follow a simple instruction!”

You brandish a candle like a sword, waving it towards him. “Stop yelling at me or I’ll leave you to bleed out!”

He face is sour, teeth gnawing on his lip as if it could stem the pain. “You wouldn’t”

“Wouldn’t i?”

You find the scissors (there were in the drawer he meant, but you will deny that to your death). You snip away at his undershirt, stripping it from his body till all you see is blood and tissue.

“Medical equipment. Fresher cupboard” he says.

Forceps, needles, thread, gloves — it was all there. What sunk your heart was that he had obviously done this before. Many times, if the empty packets were anything to go by. You scrubbed your hands, got a glass of water and bought back everything to the bed.

_You can do this,_ you tell yourself, _it’s like sewing a button._

You turn on the bedside lamp, angling it down on the wound. It’s deep. Fatty tissue exposed. If you had weaker stomach the nausea would roll through your body. Instead you view it with morbid curiosity. There are no jagged edges, no shards of glass or burning flesh.

It looked like the skin had been _pulled_ apart.

“How…” you say on the edge of a question.

“Stitch it”

You grimace, “It’s going to hurt”

“Do you think I’m weak?”

_Men and their egos,_ You think. This was not the time for ego stroking. The wound _thuds_ and you watch fresh blood overtake the old.

You sigh, “Fuck. How much blood have you lost?”

“I didn’t _measure_ it” he bites.

Stellar attitude, as always.

“Give me your top” he grunts.

_Fuck you,_ you think.

“Would you like my panties too? Or would you like me to get my stockings and play the ‘ _sexy nurse’?”_ you sass, opening the sterilised equipment, and _that is a big needle,_ you think.

“Take—" he digs his fingers into your wrist, “—off—” pulls at the sleeve “—your top”

Against your better judgement, you slid it over your head. He rolls the material around his hand, puts it in his mouth and bites. You had just had that dry cleaned.

Your hands don’t shake. You don’t allow them too. You clean his wound with water, hold a piece of skin with the forceps — take one deep breath — and push through the skin. It becomes a rhythm — in and out, don’t go underneath the fat, make sure the needle comes out straight across — and over again.

Kylo stays silent, your top in his mouth.

“That stitch was a bit wonky…” you joke, looking at your straight lines, “Can I re do it?”

The side-eye you get is borderline violent.

You force a smile, “I’m kidding”

_In and out, in and out._

“I won’t ask how you got these… because I assume you won’t tell me anyway” you say, pulling a the final knot and lifting it to cut the access. It wasn’t neat, but your basic medical knowledge has served you well.

“Smart girl” he hisses, you start to bandage his waist. “There are things you don’t need to know”

Grinding your teeth, you swallow down the bitterness. Not knowing things was starting to become your forte.

You throw everything away when you are done, and you eye the ruined bedsheets. But Kylo’s head is thrown back on the edge of exhaustion and you figure it can stay another day. You steal a— not bloody — jumper from his wardrobe and a pair of training sweats.

He doesn’t have the energy to complain.

Time slows and you fall into a silence, sitting by his bedside, listening to his deep breathes. You hook your fingers around his wrists, feeling the thumping of his pulse. He’s not unconscious, nor dead — the blood lost must be minimal. You stand — ready to make a hasty exit and wash his blood of your arms— when his hand encircles your arm.

“ _Stay—_ ” he says and your heart jumps. “—in case the wounds re-open”

_Ah, there it is._

You sit back down.

Silence ebbs and flows and you start to tap you fingers. The dull ticking of the clock driving you insane.

“You can’t stay still. Can you?” he breaths, his eyes closed. He points his hand. “Press the button on the wall”

“The one on the left?” you joke.

He doesn’t find it funny.

The wall hisses, slides to one side and opens to a stack of books. Books which definitely were not allowed. Your eyes drag along the titles and you can stop your gasp of excitement.

“Love poetry?” you point at one, turning to face Kylo with a giddy expression, “Interesting choice for a Commander”

“Interesting mouth for a Lieutenant” he snaps back.

You pull one out. The oldest, most worn, just about holding on to its binding, one. The pages are littered with someone’s writing, analysis of every line on every page, from detailed scripture to one-word thoughts. 

A page is marked by a strip of parchment, waiting to be opened again and you skim the words — a poem for a lover.

“ _But I must bless, I must praise_ ” you read aloud, “ _That you, my swan, who have all the gifts that to the swan impulsive nature gave_ —”

“ _The majesty and pride, last night should add_ …” he recalls from memory, anchoring you in the brown of his eyes and the hypnotising tone of his voice, “… _your voluntary love_ ”

Your horniness must be becoming very Kylo-centric, since the image of him —stripped down, covered in blood and reciting poetry — is now burned into your brain as the peak of eroticism. He groans, pulling himself self-up onto his forearms (thick, veiny forearms that haunt your dreams)

You put the book back.

“You’re good” you murmur, “You’re a bit of an academic, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his satisfaction across the room.

Dust collects on one of the shelves and you brush if off with your palm. There’s Sith texts ——writings about the force that would be far too advanced for you— and books on technology, republic age politics and the history of war.

“I mean, I read, but not like this” you flick through the pages a few have illustrations and you turn them each way, “I like those fantasy fiction novels, you know? Handsome strangers, battles to be won, sword fights and sexual tension”

It’s gone silent. You look and there he sits. Head rolled to the side, mouth open, body caked in blood and eyes closes in sleep.

_Guess it’s the same thing_ , you think and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face.

* * *

You blink awake at the sound of a gravelly voice. Half bleary-eyed and still shrouded in sleep, you had fallen head -first into his bed, neck at uncomfortable angle that disjoints your muscles and pulls at your nerves.

Through the sound of your own breathing, you hear him say, “Shower”

“Are we just naming random appliances?” you snap, rubbing the sleep form your eyes, “If so, I’ll go next. Washing machine”

“Get me to the shower”

You roll your neck side to side, “Ever heard of the word ‘please’?”

The meagre ‘ _please’_ that leaves his mouth is pathetic.

_“_ Sorry, what was that?” you sass.

“Get me in the shower or you won’t cum for _a week_ ”

“Now, now Commander. I’m sure you’re not the only person who can make me cum”

His hand shoots out to dig into your neck, pulling you down so hard you have to move your hands either side of him lest you put a finger in his wounds. You’re close enough to see the lines of light in his eyes and the splattering of blood on his cheek.

He breaths out slowly, “Choose your next words very carefully”

Sometimes you forget that Kylo is blood and fire. Bottled up rage and awash with power, because you get away with dismissing his authority often. The feel of his fingers, deep and bruising on your throat, was a stark reminder. Although — as you grab his wrist — you realise it’s weaker than usual.

“By the looks of things” you grin wickedly, “You don’t have the strength to punish me anyway”

“No” he looks you up and down, “But my memory is perfectly intact. I’ll save it for _later_ ”

Ignoring his snide comments, you lift the blanket off him.

“Can you stand?”

“I’m not incompetent” he spits, but the sway of his legs makes you think that he’s more effected than he cares to admit.

_Egomaniac._

He starts to stand and his knees buckle.

You scoff, “Give me attitude and you can lay in your dried blood”

You would let him. Maybe the red blood cells would absorb back inside.

The problem with lifting Ren — besides his constant resistance— is that he is a _big man. A big big man,_ your head screams. You throw one of his arms over your shoulder and use your body weight to pull him up. Most of your weight goes through to your toes and you start to think that you’ll die with this man on top of you (Although, _what a way to go)_. You get him to the fresher, sit him down on the toilet and turn on the water.

His head lolls against the wall and you spot a sore on his head. You hadn’t seen it before but, as you peer through his hair, It doesn’t look _good._ You didn’t need a comatose giant on your hands.

_I’m going to have to help you, aren’t i?,_ you think.

You start to pull your clothes off and Kylo becomes far more interested than he was two seconds ago. His hands reaching for your exposed thighs when your trousers are off. You slap his hand away.

“This isn’t about sex” you scorn. You pull _his_ jumper off your top half. You leave you underwear on, anything else would be an invitation to him.

He scoffs, hands wandering again. “Everything about us is about sex”

You flinch, no matter how much you try to hide it — that _stung_. The worst part being that he wasn’t _wrong._ You both seek each other out because you want sex. That was all.

You open the doors, put him under the waters spray and let him use the wall as a crutch. Your underwear is soaked through in seconds and your makeup must be running, but he watches you with curiosity.

You pick up his shampoo — mint, _again_ — and start to lather it over his hair, checking on the wound there. It’s a shallow cut. Head wounds just bleed more dramatically.

His eyes stay on your face when your arms reach up to wash the blood out of his hair, scrapping his scalp with your nails.

“I wish you wouldn’t stare” you say.

His head lulls into your palms, “Poetry is meant to be read. Art is meant to be stared at”

He says it as though he’s stating a fact. But it makes your eyes widen, mouth open, and blink slowly. Because _that_ , that was — you dare to think it — _romantic_. You pin it on the blood lose and the possible head injury. The Commander was a lot of things, but romantic — not so much.

“Right” you stutter, “Okay”

You wanted to be special in his eyes. There no way you could deny that. Become _so_ special, that he can’t think of anyone else. That there is no Rey, no First Order, no stuffy, misogynistic Generals. Just you and him. And your little found family — minus Alika.

You wash his torso, scrubbing the cakes of blood away until the water stops turning pink. He’s not dirty, you notice, but if he was on the Supremacy, why would he be? Though, your mind whirrs with questions as to why he would be injured.

_More importantly_ , you think, _who would do it?_

You drop to your knees, lathering his legs with soap, the muscles in his calves contracting with every brush of your hands. You look up from under your lashes to meet his waiting eyes. He has a noble face but a ruffian’s body, damaged and scarred from war. What caught you eye was his thick cock, now standing to attention underneath the spray.

He’s an Adonis. The water catches on his eyelashes and you instinctively swallow. What did he say? That art was meant to be stared at?

“You still want me even when you’re injured” you muse, abandoning your cleaning to press a kiss onto his thigh, “Do you enjoy it? the pain?”

“Pain is temporary” he says, all Sith lord and Commander, “It means nothing”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you enjoy it?”

“ _Perhaps_ …” his mouth twitched “…you should find out”

Shy – he is not. He opens his legs wider under your eyes, dick moving against his abs in a way that has your mouth drying where other parts of you were doing the _opposite._

He wanted to play dirty, then fine, you’ll play.

Rage was not new to you. You knew how to use it as a vice, a burning passion that pushed you through training and pushed you through abandonment. You remember the version of Kylo you first met — not the dominant, brash, Sith — but the arrogant Commander. How he had called you expendable, how he called you ‘ _girl_ ’, how he you were just a subordinate. It was still there, that sick burning rage that sits beneath the surface. That want for revenge that you never got.

He was helpless. Vulnerable. Weak. And he was yours.

You knew what he needed.

You push onto your knees, scraping your nails over the dusting of hair on his thighs, You can find the frantic girl buried underneath your skin, and now you will find the women. The Commander.

“You call me a _whore…_ ” you mouth up his muscles, feeling each minuscule shift, until you can stand and look down upon him.

“But _look_ at you” you smile. He looked _crude,_ his dick flushed, thick and long, the water reddening his skin and the plush of his lips pulling into an upward curve. “…fucking pathetic how quickly you get hard for me. But you can’t stop yourself, can you?”

He was steel wrapped in skin. Hard line and lithe hips, every inch a warrior.

You grip his balls in your hand and he hisses through his teeth.

Ever a warrior, but still a _man._

He’s leaking at the tip. You could be nicer, touch him where he wanted, put your mouth all over him. You don’t — he tries to grab your hair and you hold him tighter, a warning.

“Little fool” he’s still has that tenacious smirk on his face, but his voice is a little breathier. “Is that all you’ve got? Have I taught you nothing?”

He sounded unaffected, bored even, but the anxious twitch under his left eye — the one he can never seem to hide — gives him away.

“ _Fucking shut up_!” You commanded.

“Weak whore. You think you—"

You wrap your hand around his cock and his sentence is lost to a heady sigh. He restrains himself for a few seconds, as though falling into your hand would be accepting defeat. Then he lets go. Let’s his hips rock, instinctively seeking more.

“You know what’s weak?” you move your hand, watching the foreskin swallow his head over and over, it was _filthy._ “That you can’t fucking take being without me” you say and he groans “That you want my pussy all the time”

Your other hand grabs his balls and he grunst, “That you’re a slave for my cunt”

You were careful until then but your hand knocks the bandage. The Commander sucks in a breath pain splintering through his stomach. A sharp ‘ _damn it’_ falling out his throat.

The character slips out of you and you grab towards his bandages, “Shit—sorry. Do you want me to—”

He, unmistakeably whined, guttural against your body, and then his mouth consumed you. It was never a simple give and take with Kylo and he bites, lets you breath for meagre seconds before leaning in the drink you again. Those traitorous lips, they pull away to mouth something, and, when your ears tune into his words rather than the beating of his heart, he’s moaning.

Your hand is slipping through his blood, running it up and down his cock like this was perfectly normal.

“Keep going— _fuck—_ keep going” he panted.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. “And you call me filthy”

Any insecurities you had were lost to the wind. You _could_ do this.

“The call you ‘ _Jedi Killer’”_ you pump faster, _“the mighty Kylo Ren”_ you say sly and quiet, _“_ but you come apart so quickly. You always wonder what people would say about what a _slut—”_ you spit the words and watch your saliva hit his face, “—I am. Imagine what they would think about you, drowned in your own fucking cum at the sight of an inferior officer on her knees. _Pathetic._ ”

The smug, congratulating voice in your head _sung_ as you looked at his dazed expression, lost between lust and half-lidded eyes.

He had a piece of you, and now you’ll take a piece back. Rip it off with your teeth if you have to.

“I wonder, do you think you deserve a taste?” you mock, running your unoccupied hand over — your now soaked — panties. You dip your thumb over his head, his shocked gasp puffing out onto your liquid skin.

“I taste so sweet. I r _emember_ ” and he did too if the look on his face was anything to go by. His says your name but it comes out short, stuck between a strained whisper and a sigh.

“I don’t think you deserve _anything_ sweet.” You punctuate each word with a twist of your hand “Not my lips” and again “Not my tits” and again “Not _me_ ” and again.

He jolts, a full-body spasm that throws your hand slightly, slipping in the water.

“Move again and I’ll tie you up” you threaten.

His hair sticks to his neck. His head rolls back against the tiles. And his answering groan throws your whole world on it’s axis.

He utters your name like a prayer, and then smiles. A dangerous smile and your hand faulters. “You learn fast—” he says low and deprived of anything but lust.

“— _But not fast enough_ ”

Your face burns —not from the scalding heat —but from his hand. He had _slapped_ you.

And your laughing. Not sweet, delicate laughter, but hysterical chuckling that lets water flow into your mouth and wash the blood from your teeth. Because there was no one else that could push him like you could, no one else that gets his blood hot, no one else that get _this._

Whatever strength he has left is used to grip your throat and throw you into the wall.

“You play the pretty officer” he groans, hand going to grip his abandoned cock with fever, almost violently, “But you’re just like me” he murmurs, lost to some otherworldly need to consume you, “ _just_ like me”

His arms flexes and you feel the bruises well on your skin. His other arm was jacking himself harshly, the veins throbbing underneath the surface of his skin.

“Did you give up?” he pants, your words constricted by his hold, “Where did _that_ attitude go?”

You scrap for words. Your mind a strangle of letters and need. Kylo is overcome by a sinful upturn to his mouth, which scrambles your heart and makes your head scream ‘ _run, run, run’_

“Do you want me to call you Ma’am like your _pathetic_ trainee?”

Your eyes roll. The weight of his hand on your throat holding you like an anchor. The combination of your body heat and the steam burning you from the inside out. Because you had needed this. This aggressive battle between the two of you.

He’s spiralling towards the edge. It wouldn’t take him long, already a coiled spring waiting to release. But watching him —It was like watching your own personal porn reel.

His face is slightly rough with stubble, hands dry with over-work and abs rubbing along your stomach. But —most importantly —his eyes are alight with abstract fascination. As though he was trying to remember everything about you. For – if he turned his eyes— you might be gone.

Jaw held tight, you couldn’t fully see it. But you could hear the fast past slapping of skin on skin and brushes of a wet chorus that had you _aching._ His hold doesn’t slack, finger rubbing at the plush of your lips until his sinks it in.

“Yes” he says, voice sinking so low that your blush deepens an entire shade, “You were made to be watched”

The white ropes of his cum hit your stomach, sticking to the underneath of your tits and painting the line of your hips. His moan is swallowed in your lips, the Commanders hips still rutting against your body, uncontrolled and smearing his release into your skin. You watch his face. It’s so overcome with desire — red, wet, thumbing with electricity — his mouth goes slack.

There’s something you wanted to do since the time you met. You lean forward, push his — now weak — hand from your neck and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. Blood wells in your mouth and you feel, rather than hear, the growl in his chest. His cock now smoothing his cum into your stomach as if he could force it through your skin.

He kisses you roughly, in the way he knows you like. 

Holds you, the way you like.

And licks the seam of your lips, just like you like.

And you start to think you would like a lot _more._

* * *

You had a spring in your step on the way back to your quarters, dizzy with unused adrenaline when an arm grabs you from the shadows. A black silken arm.

“All you do is cause chaos” Alika snarls, pushing you firmly against the wall, which was starting to become a common occurrence.

“What?” you say, disinterested.

“Your little side project needs to stop. You can fuck your _orders_ ” she spits the words, “Even the devil on my shoulder is starting to ask what the _fuck_ I’m doing”

She studies your blank face and with a put-off sigh, moves away from you.

“How do you control history?” she sounds calm. Like a professor.

You pause. Anyone knows that history is written by the narrative that creates it, you either, change the narrative or—

“By erasing it” you say.

She nods, “Whatever you’re looking for, it’s restricted access.” She looks around you, eyes peering down the long corridor, “Or it doesn’t exist in our data”

“Fuck”

Which means, either — it’s archaic enough that it hasn’t been digitalised or someone didn’t want you to know what that symbol meant, what Hellford was, and why that church exists.

Alika wins because she refuses to lose, but she had _lost_ and her eyes shifted with distrust.

“ _You_ think they’re hiding something” you state. It’s not a question. You already know the answer.

“A word of caution….” She shifts her eyes, slanted and molten, “….don’t investigate any further. You might not like what turns up”

Your breathing is tight.

“Did you tell the higher ups about the symbol?” she says.

You shake your head.

“Good. Keep it that way” Alika gives you a sour look, “Maintain ignorance. It’s the only way to stay alive.”

You smile bitterly, “I thought you wanted me gone”

“Of course, I do—” she quips, venom glowing in her eyes, “—but I want it on my terms”

Alika is feral, but she is fair.

“Don’t ask me for anything else.” You weren’t going to. “Leave me and Kalea out of this”

You nod.

She looks at your hair, still wet, and she smiles, one long canine digging into the side of her mouth. Her energy had turned — demonic, curious and a little cruel.

“True evil. It’s _seductive,_ isn’t it?” she takes a step towards you, and more, and more, until you hit the wall. Boxed in by the broad length of her shoulders, “…Do you like bad people, _princess?_ Because the _eyes—”_ she points to the security cameras above your head “—they say you do”

Silently you stand. She could hear rumours. She could take guesses. But she couldn’t _prove_ anything. No one could know. For your sake and _his._

She licks the side of her teeth, “Fine. Stay quiet. The eyes know” her eyes dip to your throat, bringing her head to your ear. “And I know” she whispers.

You don’t even notice she called you _princess_ until she becomes a shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant: I'll tie you up  
> Kylo: Bet?
> 
> OPEN TO REQUESTS ON MY TUMBLR


	15. Eccedentesiast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eccedentesiast — someone who only pretends to smile.
> 
> Chapters may be slower the next few weeks. I'm moving to London to start a new job (your girl getting that big money) so things are really busy. The Gala chapters are also important to me, so I want to do them justice.
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlevenusflytrap22) — if your wanna discuss Kylo Rens dick for three hours, that's the place to go

You dreamt. Or — it felt like a dream. There was charred dirty under your feet, dusty and red, that clings to your toes and slips under your nails. When you look to the sky you soar above it, dipping in and out of fog and limbs of mudflat vines, that crawl — almost animalistically — for your legs. There’s the river again, trying to force your throat surrender in a way that bruises your neck.

It felt like a memory. A call that you could not answer. Because you _knew_ this place. You knew it as though it was a part of you. You knew the fresh taste of the water, you knew smell of earth and feel of the plants.

And it knew _you._

Gripping, pulling, trying to absorb you back into its core, like it was where you were _meant_ to be. There was sonder in the air —a complexity that fed into its rock. And a sorrow. A deep resounding sadness that threatened to swarm you.

Ghastly figures fill your eyes. Their sunken cheeks on the cusp of decay, arms holding together by served tendons that sway in the rough winds. Someone holds you with calloused hands, wringing your chest so tight you can’t scream.

Hands touch your face. Distorted is a smoke-like fog but still with all the warmth of humanity. 

The voice that speaks Is not masculine or feminine — it’s something else entirely.

**_You are so close child. But so far._ **

* * *

You flick your stylus around your fingers, watching it bounce of the table and stumble over your thumb. Repetition could ease your mind – you were sure. There was a voice, somewhere underneath the surface, calling for your attention, just like the voice you heard before.

_You are so close child._

“Ma’am?”

It was a switch that was turned on and you flicker back to life, Officer Laylan hovering over your shoulder like an overprotective puppy.

“Are you okay? Ma’am?”

“Yeah” you breathe, holding your hand on your racing heart. “I had a nightmare last night. It’s playing on my mind”

A nightmare. Or a vision. Or a memory.

He runs a finger over a scar on the bridge of his nose —a nervous tick—before he excitedly stands on doe-like legs. “There’s a tea for that! I can go—”

“It’s okay” you grab as his sleeve, slightly too big for his scrawny arms. “You can help me look at plate setting designs”

You were extremely last minute on your work. You had to set up the base for the gala _tomorrow_ and were still working through the checklist. You delegated parts to Officer Laylan and Kalea had taken charge of floral centrepieces (a tall crystal of red cymbidium orchids). All you had to do was put the final touches together.

Except, you couldn’t stop hearing it. The low timber of a voice you knew.

You flip the stylus again, your eyes bored of the beige floral motifs and silver detailing that, after two hours, all begin to look the same.

_You are so close child._

You throw the stylus down and Laylan jumps. “Hold down the fort” you say.

“Where are you going?”

To speak with the one person who would understand your mania.

“Look…” you shove your data pad in his hands, “If anyone comes looking, just tell them I died. We lose so many people every rotation that they won’t know the difference”

‘Wait…” his voice follows you out the office. “… _People die?”_

There are some things that aren’t covered in the recruitment seminars.

You had expected guards to be outside of Hellford's cell. What you got, however, was the Knights of Ren. Only two — Ushar and one you couldn’t name. Hellford must have racked up their ‘danger metre’ to be so well guarded. 

With confidence, you walk towards the door to the holding cells until Ushars war club halts your entrance.

“I’ll be five minutes” you step towards the door again and his weapon pushes you back.

“No one is allowed in. On the orders of the Commander” Ushars haughty tone does nothing to dissuade you. He was the one you could control.

“ _Ushar_ ” you scoff, running your hand over his armour. “Did you like what you saw last time Ushar? Did it get you hard?” You place your hand on his inner thigh and, with all the power of vicious femininity, you grab his dick through his trouser. Hard enough that you hear him hiss. “Because you’ll lose the fucking ability if you don’t give me five _fucking_ minutes.”

Vicrul — that was the name of the other night. You could recognise him up close — wouldn’t hesitate to cut your throat. And, as he moves his scythe, it’s Ushars hands that stops him.

“I could kill you” Ushar grunts as your hand tightens.

“No. You can’t” you smirk. Kylo would not allow it. That much you are sure off. You juggle his dick mockingly in your palm. “I’ll rip it right off”

“Five minutes”

You let go and Knight Vicrul’s looming presence subsides.

“You got it, Boss”

They let you in and you can’t help the breath of relief that seeps out of you.

It’s dimly lit inside, despite the red beams that burn between each bar of his cell. You slam them off using the control on the wall and they fizzle to non-existence. Hellford would not attack you. He enjoys playing with your too much for that.

His visage was weaker than when you last saw him.

More of his braids has been sawn off. This time, straight from the scalp. It shouldn’t bother you so much but something about them was cultural, meticulous and — if you stare long enough — spiritual, the way each ribbon was perfectly threaded through. To see such large gaps of broken skin make you stomach roll. His face had suffered. Some of it was the weight of captivity (dried lips, broken skin and darks under eye circles) others were the work of someone’s fist; deep bruises which mottle his — usually flawless —skin.

He huddles against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs, soaking in the stars from outside.

Whether it was from the disconnected power or just your presence — he knows your there.

You could feel it.

“You have come back. Interesting. I thought you were done after the first time” he says.

There’s a table besides the holding cell lined with all his personal belongings (Kept for evidence or curiosity — you couldn’t tell). There’s a pack of deathsticks, a lighter and all his elaborate rings. You pick up two of the deathsticks and snap them in half.

Your answering grin is both melancholy and malicious. “So did I”

“You are uncomfortable…” he hacks, coughing into his fist. “…seeing me like this”

“You deserve it” you spit. Bending down to his eye level by the bars.

“Do you believe that, little one?” he says.

You scoff. “You murdered children”

“Ah, and the First Order is so innocent?”

You balk. You had no time for his philosophy nor his anti-First Order propaganda, this was about _you._

“But you do no come here to discuss that, nor to discuss me” Hellford leans against the wall, his jawline creating an unfair side profile in the light. He closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath and sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Ahh yes, the voice that calls for you and you deny it”

“How do you know that?”

He ignores your question completely, crawling over to the bars of his cell. His knees are scuffed, holes worn into the seams of his trousers that expose his dark flesh marled in dirt. 

He grips either side of a bar, levelling his face with yours. “I recognise my _mirror._ We are alike — you and I. The _image_ is far prettier, but you are my other side—”

“Like fuck I am!” you interrupt.

Hellford laughs, a sickeningly sweet thing that makes you want to cut his throat. “You don’t know it yet. But you will. And then you will see that we’re the same. When you know where you come from, when you know _what you are”_

He could not know. He _couldn’t_ know anything about you, it made no sense.

Unless—

_Unless._

“You’re force sensitive”

You needed to say it out loud, because it solidified what you should have known. He knew who you were. he could worm his way inside your mind — in the interrogation room, in Naboo, in Canto — he had played with you.

He flashed a disarming grin — one that was far too excited for your liking. “Of sorts”

Nausea flooded your body, because he knew more than what you knew. It shouldn’t be possible, it couldn’t be, but…if he could waltz through _Kylo’s_ walls, then he would have some of the missing pieces, those gaps that drove you insane. Those blank post-its.

Getting into Kylo’s mind was a feat of strength, the effort required was the same as scaling` Mount Telec. You couldn’t do it. He opened his mind when _he_ wanted to, let you in when _he_ wants to and pushed you out when _he_ wanted to. All you could grasp is feelings and even they were diluted.

Hellford traces a chipped nail up the bars, his face splitting into a grin as you catch his eyes.

“Your defences are weak” he murmurs. You reach for the threads of the force to hide your mind, to build something — _anything_ — that would keep him out, for you could feel him now. An organic power that could slither through every crack and grow into your very mind before you realise it’s there.

“You lack training. Kylo has created a fortress, you have a curtain” he chuckles, and the pressure builds. Before he must have been sneaky —working his way through your thoughts and memories — now he is brash. Roots growing behind your walls and reaching for every thought with unwinding branches.

He watches you intently “I brush it aside”

You gasp for some semblance of power. But all you can gain is your footing, forcing yourself not to slump against the bars.

“You have seen inside Kylo’s mind?” You say.

Hellford has a delicacy about him. One that comes from the rise of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw and the neatness of his braids, each so perfectly woven to completion. He still had it. Even when he rose on his knees to sit by the bars. His face a picture of childish glee.

“No fortress is impenetrable” he whispers, so close to the bars that one button could have his tongue flopping on the ground.

“Tell me everything” you lean forward until the bars push against your head. “About the voice and about what Kylo knows about me. You owe me that”

He smirks, eyes flicking down to your mouth for short second. “I owe you no such thing”

“You drugged me!” you snip.

“Yes. And it was rather entertaining”

“Fuck you” you hit the bar next to his head. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me everything”

“You don’t understand. I do not need to. You will find out soon enough”

“I’m so fucking fed up with this!” you slam your hand against the bars as you stand. Hellford doesn’t flinch. “All of this!”

It’s a darker force that compels you to take the lighter off the table. He would not be needing it, after all, in a cell. You flick it on and off, seduced by a tall violet flame that nips at the tip of your fingers.

He did not fear you. You could see it in his eyes — how much he reveals in your rage — but he _should_ fear you. You are no dove, no ‘ _little one’_ , no victim or child.

When you kneel back down, his eyes are appraising. Delightfully bright despite his cut lip and bruised cheek. You reach through the bars, wrap your hand around his robe and slam him against the bars until the flame rests under his chin.

You watch the flame dance in his eyes. “ _Tell me!”_

“Will you burn me if I don’t?” he says, watching your eyes with a lassitude that has your hand itching to pull him closer. “If so, please. Go ahead.”

Your hand falters.

“Do you know what burnt flesh smells like?” he wraps his long fingers over your wrist, trying to inch the flame closer to him. His eyes are wild and a sickness settled in your chest. “It’s metallic. Like a mix of coagulated blood and meat”

“Enough” you say. This had gone too far.

“It’s never enough” he pulls you tight, your mouths uncomfortably close despite the bars. “You’ve done bad things already. Why not add another to the list?”

“I have not—”

“You fuck the _devil_ ” he leans forward until his stubble hits the flame, the smell of burnt hair flooding your nostrils. “You let him use you. On Vandor, on Canto, On Bothawui. I can see everything. I see your legs wrapped around him, I see you letting him degrade you, I know how he finds you _worthless_. How you are another hole to fill—"

“You don’t know anything _”_ you spit.

Now we both know that’s not true” His eye dance against the purple flame, far brighter than they were moments ago. “I know _everything”_

You hear a knock on the door. Your time is up.

He pushes your limp hand to the side, shuffling his clothes into place.

“We are coming into Cantonica soon, aren’t we?” he asks, but his eyes say he knows this already.

“Kylo must have told you” He smirks at your confused complexion. “I will be transferred to the prison here. To be judged for my crimes while you enjoy your _party_ ”

You hadn’t known that.

“It will be the end of our story little dove” He smiles wistfully against the bars. His faux charm not making you any more comfortable.

His face causes your heart to stutter. Not from joy, but from the chill that runs through your bones when he says his next words.

“Make sure you’re there for the _goodbye”_

* * *

Being back in Canto again made you break out in sweats. It had a callous way of swarming you with a mixture of anxiety and excitement, it was, after all, the place you managed to get kidnapped, drugged and spanked within forty-eight hours — a casual Friday for some.

JD-1 had ran off with Levi, becoming his loyal little droid during his repairs. Apparently, some shop sold outfits for droids and Levi wanted to get him a bowtie (‘ _bright red’_ JD had beeped when you asked him about it)

You hadn’t expected the best room or the fanciest view.

But what you _really_ hadn’t expected was a body of pink and glittering pearl to be laid on your bed. Head in her hand, flipping through a designer magazine with all the commonality of someone who had done this before.

Jeninne Neveru gave you a delighted smile from _your_ pillow.

Breaking and entering was a casual affair, you guessed.

“You don’t need to tell me how beautiful I look” she says, flicking her hair — now lined with silver tinsel — over her shoulder. “I already know’

You open and close your mouth, still lost “You look very—"

“I know. Being beautiful is a blessing and a curse, no?” she surveys her nails in the sunshine, talons of pastel that could cut your neck with enough force. “My feet ache and my skin _glow,_ but at what cost?” you flinch when she mumbles ‘ _about 2000 credits’_ under her breath.

You point to the door. The door she somehow got through. “Okay, but—”

“No time for chat” she flicks a single finger up and down your body. “Take off your clothes”

“Sorry—”

“Apologies” she stands and flicks your hat off with a touch of her claw. “No _time!_ ”

“Jeninne!”

“Little bird” she scoffs, pulling at the buttons of your uniform jacket. “We dance in two days—” she wiggles two fingers in your face. “—you need whole dress in two days”

The fun thing about Jeninne’s speech was that she often dismissed words she didn’t find important – ‘at’, ‘do’ the entire letter ‘h’ — as though she had more important things to worry about than her linguistics. It made ‘whole’ come out as ‘wole’ and ‘dress’ came out with an extra ‘k’ on the end. It’s soft and brittle at the same time and it make your heart swell with comfort.

You had to quell your grin to digest her words.

There was only one person who would send Jeninne to you.

“Kylo sent you?”

Her laugh is all light and tinkering and she pulls your jacket off, turning you to face a floor length mirror.

“More like told me” she quips, pulling a measuring tape out of her bra. “ _brute_ ”

It was becoming a common expectation to be dolled upon by the Commander credits. You hadn’t even thought of buying a dress, you assumed one would be sent to you — and what did that make you? A luxurious little pet? What was worse, perhaps, was the fact that it turned you on. To be dressed by him, to have money thrown at you like you _deserved_ it. The girl who came from nothing dressed in the finest threads.

The irony is not lost on you.

She brings up the sleeve of your dress. And, when you regain your common sense, you realise she’s comparing it to your cheeks.

“Little bird, you are blushing”

You bring your hands to your cheeks as she measures your height. They burned.

“You said you thought Kylo could love me before” you whisper and Jeninne nods, she seems so used to intimate conversations. “Do you still think that?”

“Are you unsure?”

You were not unsure. It was more like a dark, niggling doubt. One that rotted a whole in your heart.

“Love does not come easy to a man like that. I do not think he has had much, but he is more a man than a Commander around you. That mean something” She says, wrapping the measuring tape around your calf.

Whatever your face shows displeased her, her forehead scrunching and leaving little creases in her foundation.

“Did I tell you how I meet my wife?” you shake your head. “I come out club, right? And I hear—” she makes a yakking sound like a choking cat. “—that sound. I thought a lady was dying. I go around the corner and there she was…”

She bends over with hands on her stomach and you almost laugh at the amateur dramatics.

“…Vomiting” she states, leaning back down to wrap the tape over your other leg.

“And you…liked that?”

“She was sick and still delicious, no?” Jeninne giggles, her habit of answering one question with another causing you to raise your eyebrows. “She looked like my favourite food. Her hair like a sunset, eyes like raisins and her face was shiny with jewels”

She mimics dots on her face and you assume her wife must be pierced. Would Kylo like that? Piercings?

“She is also….” She mouths her next word, running the sound over the pink of her lips before she settles on— “ _juicy”_

You gift her a curious look and she sighs before moving her hands in the air, trying to create something; it’s an hourglass, or a plush circle, or a rolling wave, each move of her arms was as though she couldn’t do her shape justice. And the dazed look on her face was like seeing a drunkard — flushed features, wide pupils and a burning redness that creeps up her neck.

“Wherever you’ve gone” you click your fingers in-front of her face, “Come back to me”

She clicks her tongue as she wraps the tape around your right bicep.

Jeninne sighs, bashful with romance. “She is like a sexy steak”

“Are you hungry or horny?” you say, tone bordering on a laugh.

“Both” she nods to herself, confirming it. “Anyway, she come back to my house. We get her cleaned up and I make her waffles for…what you call it?”

She mimes drinking from a glass and wobbles on her heels.

“Hangover?”

“Yes!” she squeals, flipping the tap around your waist. “And I want to wed two days later”

You wondered what that was like — the utter certainty. You’ve not been sure of many things in your life and Kylo was the new problem that spanned your waking hours and gave you sick thrills. There was no certainty between you. You had an agreement — yes, but it’s Hellford voice you hear, the one that called you ‘ _Kylo’s new toy_ ’ _._

Being at Kylo’s mercy meant he could dismiss you any time he wants. Any way he wants.

Jeninne is humming to herself and you snap your eyes to her face. She had the face of classical art: sharp lines, distinct features and heavy blush. You could imagine a portrait of her hanging on an aristocrat’s mantle, bathed in fire light.

She was light, and next to her you felt closer and closer to the dark.

You paste a smile on your face. “When did you get married?”

“Two days later!”

You wait for the ‘ _just kidding’_ or ‘ _not really’_ but it never comes. Instead she matches your stare in the mirror.

“Really?!”

She giggles that vibrant laugh she has. “When you know, you know”

You didn’t know. You had no idea. _Fuck_ , that was starting to get repetitive.

“Look, Kylo is…complicated, no?” she says, and you nod. You both pull each other in different directions and it usually ends with you naked. But then he’ll say little things, things that make you think he might have a soul (deep, deep, deep down)

She pecks the back of your forehead, a light brushing kiss. “A man who does not know love cannot give it”

“But maybe you can teach him?”

You didn’t tell her that you weren’t that good at it either.

Jeninne made the decision — without you, of course — to take you out for drinks. Her wife, named Adi, was working as a mixologist in a local bar, and, according to Jeninne, made the best phattro this side of the casino.

Sneaking out for alcohol definitely was not part of your checklist, but you could fit it in between picking out table candles and chair covers.

You put on your green dress – the only Kylo had refused to let you wear last time you were in Canto. It wasn’t special. Velvet, low cut and a dirty emerald colour that Jeninne snuffed her nose at, but it was _yours._

You wander through the halls with Jeninne, her hand linked over your elbow and the retailing of another story falling out over her lips, causing you to cackle loudly.

“Uniforms are mandatory, Lieutenant”

He always did manage to find you when you least expect it. You turn, and there the Commander stood, full uniform and all, despite the decadence of the hotel. There was always such a plainness to Kylo’s attire and the helmet (that _fucking_ helmet) just added to it. He better dress up for the gala, you didn’t want to be over dressed.

His helmet was bent slightly down and, you like to think, he was looking at your cleavage. He may find you sexy in the dress he hated so venomously. You fervently — but silently — hoped so.

_An attitude adjustment is necessary, Commander_. You whisper through your mind.

“Sorry Sir, won’t happen again”

It would happen again.

“Yes. I hope not. I wouldn’t want you to be _punished”_ the emphasis on the word ‘punished’ had Jeninne subtly digging her claws into your arm. “Our reform procedures are extremely vigorous”

You can’t control the lift of your mouth. “I think I could handle it, Sir”

“Could you?” he mocks. He must not have notice Jeninne, who wave her fingers at him slowly. “Jeninne”

She curtseys mockingly, dipping her skirts. “ _Commander_ ”

“I assume you will be fittingly dressed for work tomorrow?”

“Of course, Sir” grinning, your run your hands over the velvet along your chest. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint”

“No” you see his hands clench. “You wouldn’t”

It sounded familiar to the first time he held you. The way you licked his glove, the way you apologised, so desperate for the validation of your superior. The way he told you that you shouldn’t had done it, before he had you aching on his thigh. He must hear your memory loud and clear for you feel his lust — tangible, raw, _desperate_. You smirk involuntarily.

_You haven’t had your dick in me for a while Commander. Restless?_ You think, feeling his power grab at every word.

_Watch yourself, Brat,_ his voice is a ringing tune in your ear, _one taste of power does not mean you have the ability to keep it._

_How’s your wound? Should I put a finger in it? Just to see its sewn…._ you drag your eyes obviously towards his crotch. _…tight._

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there in physical silence, but Jeninne was looking between the two of you with a dumb-founded confusion. “ I missed something, no?”

“No” Kylo’s voice was low in the modulator and you didn’t have to imagine the sensuality of his tone. “Have a nice evening Lieutenant, Jeninne”

You watch him storm away. The length of his legs consistently aggressive against the linoleum. The sound of his strides only covered by Jeninne making a sweet ‘ _ooohhhhh myyyy_ ’ in your ear.

You would not be a toy. You’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jeninnes Outfit Inspiration](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/88/9d/33889dd2dc15b5880c13bb35c2b8d108.jpg)   
>  [Readers Green Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b2/04/72/b204725fb6d7c01acc547927cd691e90.jpg)


	16. I. Sidereus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three Gala chapters are set out as a trilogy (just because I had this idea and thought I would role with it). Sorry for putting the chapter up late, I'm at work training from 8 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon and am up at 6, so my anaemic ass has been tired af. 
> 
> For all you latin lovers, my chapters are named after latin terms. 
> 
> Sidereus —of or belonging to the stars

One drink turned into two and two turned into three. And so on and so forth.

You spent the next day organising banner hanging with five medications running through your system, two energy shots and sunglasses on. Officer Laylan tried to comment on your state and he almost lost a limb: his third leg. 

But as Hellford says — you’ve got to drink in Canto to make it in Canto.

Canto base was irrevocable different. Because Cantonica pretended it didn’t exist. It was — to all naive souls —a museum to Separatist past. To you, it was the galaxies worst cover-up to hide the First Order powers that have already got their roots firmly inserted in the ground.

The architecture was a complicated mesh of stone carvings and metal pillars, creating a mix of old and new. Inside, it’s a monotony of cold brick and intricately carved gargoyles that hand over the praecipes and made you want to hide you bag — lest it swoop down and steal it.

The building was layers upon layers of historical posturing. ‘ _Archives of Separatist past’_ are on the highest floor, littered in legal documents, mandates and minutes from senate meetings, Then there’s ‘ _technological advances through the ages’_ on the third, ‘ _Sith history’_ on the second and the portrait hall on the first.

You had taken over the entrance halls. The banners hanging over the balconies and scalling down your walls like uncontrollable vines. The tables set with Kalea’s long stemmed orchids and your slate plating.

A hand touches your shoulder. “You busy?”

You flinch, but you would know Levi’s cherubic tone from miles away. Decorating the table was more monotonous than ‘ _busy’_ but you did have two hours to get it done.

“I think I’m supposed to be” you move the fork in your hand to the left of the plate.“I’m distressed over the cutlery placements. Is it big fork on the outside—“ you move it again.“—or the inside?”

The intricacies of cutlery politics was lost on you.

Levi smells like cheap hotel soap and oil. And he hooks his hands around your waist, places his head on your shoulder and looks down at your array.

“I thought you just used the same fork”

“I mean, once you lick it isn’t it essentially clean? so, just use it for the next dish” you shrug,

His laugh blows air on to your neck. “Something isn’t clean when you lick it”

You turn in the circle of his arms and mockingly tap his face.

His cheeks are looking hollower each day, the sleeves of his jumper lose around his wrists as he rings them between his hands. He was losing parts of himself recently and you hadn’t been there. Too distracted by the ferocity of Kylo’s presence. After the Gala, you’d go somewhere. Take your leave and go to a lake house where you can swim and eat all day.

After the Gala. You swear it.

“What’s up?” you ask, scrounging through a box of table decorations.

“I—“

“Do you prefer the beige napkins or the cream?” you hold up the two napkins and Levi winces like this conversation has personally offended him. “The beige is too yellow toned right? I knew it”

“Can you just give me a minute—“

“Shit. Did I order napkin holders? Fancy people have fancy napkin holders” you create a circle with your hands. “You know! The round things”

He grabs your arm, his long spindly fingers digging into the meat. “Darling. Slow down”

“I need to talk to you” he whips you around, pulling you back into his arms. “About the file you asked me to get”

“That’s great!” you reply, and it was. You check your watch. “Can it wait until after the gala? I have so much I need to get done and the potted flowers are being delivered in half an hour and have not yet been checked for wilting—“

“Yeah” his words are despondent. “Yeah, of course”

“I can give you five minutes”

You didn’t have five minutes.

“You’ll need longer than five minutes” he nods, breathing through gritted teeth.

Concern. It floods your system and as you go to open your mouth, the panic on your tongue, he holds his hand up. Halting your every word.

“It’s…It’s complicated. I won’t stay for long at the gala anyway” his mouth softens at your pouting face. “Transfer duty. Someone needs to get that ‘hot prisoner’—” he mimics your words back to you “— to his jail cell. Don’t worry, I’ll come back after we get that mouthy little shit behind bars.”

Hellford will talk his ear off, you’re sure of it. That man loves an audience.

You smile. “Good. Because I need to tell you something too”

He needed to know — what you were, what you could do, what you had been offered. He deserves that. After years by your side, a brother in soul even without being bonded by blood

He looks you up and down, the cerulean colours in his eyes dancing in the bright hall. “…are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“Oh thank the maker—“

You see, what looks like a ball of butter, rolling towards you.

You give Levi a wink. “I already have a child”

JD-1 is babbling and whirring, excitedly knocking his wheels into Levi’s legs. He had an attachment to him, like a child seeing a cartoon character or a fan seeing their favourite celebrity. You didn’t let yourself get riddled with jealously. JD-1 worshiped Levi. But he loved you like a mother.

You bury your laugh, pretending to scold him. “Remember that it’s my room you sleep in. I’ve had enough of this favouritism”

JD-1 still didn’t have equal sized arms, but he lifts his smaller hand towards you, and, in his grip, sits a small white stone.

“Rocks aren’t rent” you laugh, taking his rock and putting in your pocket.

Your collection was starting to look like a geologists.

He beeps ‘ _no money’_ before rolling away when a gonk droid appears. He was making friends in all different places. Levi looks towards the doors, checks his own watch, and gives you a half-hearted smile.

“After tonight” Levi confirms, kissing your forehead.

You smile. “After”

* * *

Dresses are just _things_. But when that black boss appears outside your, Jeninne’s name printed in pink vinyl, your heart rate still picks up. Not because you know whatever’s in there will be ethereal, but because you know who bought it. And giving you things was Kylo’s weird way of showing affection (that and calling you a ‘ _slut’_ )

It came with a smaller box, one signed by Adi’s name instead, and, apparently, she didn’t just make nipple tassels, for inside sat a tiny ring, detailed with crystal stars, along with a written note.

_Some people are just made of starlight. Tonight, you will show them who you are._

_Jeninne and Adi Neveru_

Your hand run over the corner of the box, then the pink tissue underneath, before grasping at a crystallized bodice. The gold dress was exuberant to the point of ridiculousness, this — this dress of stars — stunned in a way that was elegant, sexual and burdened with elysian. It’s made of a material of diamonds, hugging ever curve with incessant pleasure. The sleeves are long and hit your wrist, but the massive keyhole cut out in the middle loses all sense of modesty despites high neckline. A scrunch in the material hugs your left hip, flowing over your side in wave.

The say the Hapan people are the most beautiful in the galaxy, breed for absolutely aesthetic perfection, but here, in the shitty hotel lighting in a dress of stars; you give them a run for their money.

JD 1 beeps from the ground. You bend down to rub his head and he hands you a string of rocks. It didn’t match your outfit, small rough pink stones that were strung together by a wire (Levi’s doing you were sure). It’s wonky, too heavy on one side and it hangs awkwardly off your wrist.

“It’s perfect” you say, and it was no lie. Everything was perfect.

* * *

The hall looks — dare you say it — pretty good. Suck on that big bosses.

The alcohol is flowing, the lights entangled over the balconies and through your plants. A giant chandelier encases the marble in a golden glow, bouncing off your dress and scattering the floor with spottings of light. A few officers have started drinking to early, falling over each other with a severe lack of grace and you swerve the avoid their fumbling bodies. The idea of such a gala was for politics, but as you see a Senator suck a shot out of a lady’s cleavage you start to think things have gone sideways.

A lady in pink strolls through the crowd and her smile crinkles her eyes. Never say Jeninne Neveru didn’t have _guts._

“Are you…” you spin in a circle, taking in the officers, generals and senators that definitely weren’t Jeninne’s type of people. “Are you supposed to be here?”

She’s all dressed up in a geometric black and pink dress, the sleeves so wide they double the width of her shoulders and span out like a bow. Her heels are six inches high, but she walks with grace, catching the looks of more than one patron. One looks at the length of her tanned legs and you automatically square your shoulders.

You’d fight an army to protect this girl. You raise an eyebrow at the pervert and he eagerly turns his head.

“Of course not” She catches a servers eyes, winks, and takes the entire tray of T-18 Skyhopper shots. “I’ll take that!”

“They’re for the—” you say, as she downs three and then passes you the tray. “—guests”

“I’m a guest, no?” Jeninne asks question even when she doesn’t want an answer. The server looks between the two of you, hands grasping the air before he walks away stunned.

“No” you half shout, half whisper, bending your head to the shell of Jeninne’s ear. If she got caught…

She waves her hand, the rows of silver jewellery glittering expensively. “Systematics”

“I think you mean ‘semantics’’” you venture.

He ‘ _yes’_ turns into ‘ _yush’_ as she grabs another tray of tiny chipitas, stuffs two in her mouth and the rest is tipped into her open purse. She hands you the tray again and you stand there, tray in each hand like a pair of scales.

“Drink” she giggles with a laugh like crackling fire. “You’ll need it”

“With what hands, Jeninne?” you snarl, waving the trays.

You don’t have time to resist before she grabs the trays, hands you the last few shots, and throws them like a discus towards the catering staff. One ducks, the other gets a slap to the back of the head. Your moan of ‘ _real subtle’_ is lost in Jeninne’s decorated fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into the crowd.

Jeninne just seems to work at the pace of a light freighter.

“I sneak into the last five” she twirls a strand of her pastel hair over her finger, frowning at the outfits of passers-by. “Each one gets worse. So drink more, then we enjoy more”

You see the twins. Two different sides of a moon, mingling with the higher-ups. Alika in a tight, white pencil skirt and a low-cut shirt with curling sleeves, Kalea in a fantastical ballgown adorned in flowers and butterfly prints with a sweetheart neckline. Kalea gives you a wave and motions a thumbs up at the decorations. Alika turns away.

Levi cuts an impressively lanky figure in a charcoal suit. A sash of dark grey sleeping over his shoulder, underneath the side of his jacket, and coming out below his waist. He waves his glass at you (Filled with juice — hazards of escort duty) and you wave your shot glass back. Officer Laylan dances with another officer, long brown curls falling over an elaborate pinks suit with silver deco print.

JD-1 zips past, chasing a gonk droid with a red dicky bow around his metallic body.

The person you _needed_ to see was not there.

“He does not like crowds” Jeninne grimaces, downing a shot that she chokes on. She spits it back into the cup, spluttering. “He prefers to brood in private”

You flinch at being caught looking for _him_. “That obvious?”

Jennine nods. You were projecting, you were sure of it, he should be able to sense you, come find you and ask you the question he longs to. You bit into your tongue from the stress.

The lights dim. The dancing starts. And you are lost without him on your arm.

* * *

You had wandered. Out of boredom and out of disappointment. It was possible that he had forgotten what he asked of you.

Your sparkling adornments looking meek in the dark halls of the portrait room. Rows upon rows of dramatic pictorial representations of powerful people past. You drag your hand along the red rope keeping you from leaning closer. The eyes of each warrior staring down at you.

It is eerie to feel the faces of death watching you.

Darth Revan cuts an imposing figure in dark oil paint, the words ‘ _disciple of the dark’_ printed in silver lacquer underneath his feat. Darth Nihilius is next. The blank, soulless mask staring back amidst the light of his sabre, the skull over his face a stark reminder of his endless hunger for the force, and, for human life.

Sith come in twos: master and apprentice.

Could your face be on this wall?

The Huntresses’ yellow eyes looked down upon you and your replying grin was sharp.

“Bit egotistical” you mock. Pocking your tongue out at her painted stare.

“A commemoration to the past” the tenor of _his_ tone vibrates through the high walls and shakes your bones. “To our failures”

You did not spin to face Kylo. Trying to quell your eagerness to run to him like an excitable puppy. He had a way of finding you, seeking your heat like a missile. You chose to turn your face instead. When you see him, you almost wished you hadn’t. It made it harder not to run.

You always thought he had a deceptively boyish face. Unsure of how to use his angles, burdened by fine stress lines and blessed with sharp cheekbones. Now, he looked regal. The mane of his hair waved and luxuriously hanging over his ears. Unsurprisingly, he had an armoured top, ebony toned and high at the neck. He whole outfit was armour — still ready for a war at the scream of a nobleman. Kylo had a cape-like over coat belted by a dark sash and accompanied by a pin to hold it in place.

You had seen _every_ part of him. Every dip, ridge and muscle. Every scar and every mark, and yet, your heart rate skyrockets, sends itself into orbit and lands among the stars. You must look stricken with lust. You were grateful, therefore, when you find his eyes blown, sifting through the plains of your dress of stars.

His attention ran over you, from the top of your head to the shoes on your feet, before he settled on matching your stare. You should move. Break this hold he has on you but his energy pins you in place. 

`

“You’re not up here” you comment, breaking your too-long stare. It was addictive to stare at him and he made a fetching sight in black.

“I prefer to kill my past” his voice flows over your ear as he comes to stand at your side, his hand running over the ring on your finger. “And I will not posture to the First Orders need to make a spectacle out of its leaders.”

“To kill the past” you repeat, walking down the rope. He follows. The weight of his stare pushing into your back. “Does that mean you do not grow from it? Learn from it?”

“What have you learnt from your past?” he says.

Irrevocably, you think of the _wanting._ Not just the physical need but the mental desire for _more_. You were not one for complacency, nor to be forgotten in the midst of over officers. You wanted _it_ — whatever ‘ _it’_ was that day: the next best job, the best food, the prettiest clothes.

You turn to face Kylo’s profile, covered in the night light.

And you wanted him.

A man made of moonlight.

“Hunger” it’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. A whisper that sounded like a confession.

The hunger of a starving child and the hunger of a lustful women.

“Yes. The girl who was skinny to the point of bone” he says. He must have seen your medical records. The pictures of your ribs bursting through your skin, the way your arms could break like matchsticks.

“I am not the girl anymore” you choke, your voice filled with more emotion than you expected.

“That girl was fragile, broken” his hand grips your wrist, spinning you to face him. “Weak”

You bite down on your lip and Kylo’s eyes follow it. “And the girl you see now?”

“Worthy. Loud. Strong” he nods to himself and you see his jaw tense as he swallows. “I feel your power. Untrained but it flows like water. Your mouth needs work—”

A laugh burst free from your chest. “That would make me boring”

“but _this_ —” he drags a finger down a vein in your neck, now free from his gloves “—I can feel it.”

He is an infuriating, aggressive man and yet — _and yet_ — moments like this have you waiting for shaky words or an order. Something that was tangible and real. You were always hanging on an edge with him, waiting for the moment to jump, were he’ll give you permission to get a bit closer. You wrap your hand around his wrist, letting his fingertips rest on your neck.

You breathe a shuddery sigh.

“What does it feel like?”

His forehead touches yours. A simple action that makes you inhale a shaken breath, eyes locked to Kylo’s closed ones, his hand holds your nape, the other has its fingers spread over your sternum.

He breaths slow. In and out. Letting his heart rate match yours.

“It feels like a newly formed river” the words come out silken, running over your ears like a kiss. “Fresh and flowing” he spreads his hands further. “But rivers create estuaries and estuaries flow into seas”

He turns his head, holding on to some invisible thread within your veins.

“And there is nothing stronger than the tide” he states it with solidarity.

“Could I be better than you?”

He ignores the mischievous twinkle in your eye. Settling on a rueful smile.

“Careful now” he demanded. “Don’t start a fight you cannot win”

The sounds of laughter break your reverie. A crescendo of joyful music flowing through the empty corridors. And yet, it felt as though you were completely alone. The music hits it peek and your pulse speeds up despite your controlled breathing. He bends his head into the curve of your neck, and you know what he wants to ask.

_Ask me_ , you think. _Demand it of me_.

“Agree to be mine and you’ll want for nothing” he breathes into your neck. “There will be no past. Just future”

You wonder if, one day, the fever will pass. If his bottom lip touching your ear wouldn’t make your heart race. If your turbulent mind wouldn’t create fantasies of his hands on you. If the hazy wisps of your dreams wouldn’t morph into his face.

“Do not be scared of the darkness” he sighs. “Make the deal”

You knew your answer. An answer that would shape your years to come.

“In cum or in blood?” you ask, looking up at him. It was, after all, how you made agreements.

He glanced down at you, the corner of mouth lifting in a reluctant smile that he couldn’t seem to fight. He was a vandal this man and he would ruin you. You just know it. But what a way to go – destroyed at the hands of a man who wanted to remake the world.

“We only have so much time” there is wild light in his eyes. “Blood will do”

His hand moves like lightening; so fast that you couldn’t catch it before he wraps it Around your nape, pulling you into the velvety material of his suit. Your chest hits something hard, and, looking down, you see a simple silver brooch in the shape of a star.

You were a pair.

Kisses are duels and this was a war — his mouth swallowing yours with an aggression that has you moaning into his lips. He runs his tongue over the top of your mouth. The wide spans of his hands digging into your hips, holding you in place with a strength that makes you keen against him.

You were moving. Blindly and erratically — something falls, most likely the rope barrier, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This was performance art — in its own way. Your back hits the wall, trapped beneath the observing eyes of Darth Maul and Darth Tyranus, who look down in, what you like to believe, was disappointment.

Kylo pushes on your bare skin, the keyhole of your dress and you bend your back so he can rub his thumb around the edge of your chest.

He rumbles a sound of approval, vibrating through his chest and up your wandering hands. His tongue comes hot and fast, licking at the shell of your mouth, devouring you whole. It felt like his force signature — burning and vicious power. Without warning, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

It hurts and, as you try to pull back, he holds your neck with one hand. Allowing him to suckle the copper taste from your tongue.

“That was me returning the favour” he whispers as he pulls his head back from your mouth. You flush, the memory of the shower coming back thick and fast.

_You deserved it,_ you thought.

A line of blood has settled on his lips, he rubs it away the back of his hand, and licks it of the top with one brush of his tongue, the golden flecks in his eyes never leaving yours.

The blood was your signature. And the deal was done.

* * *

It takes you ten minutes to get enough control of limbs to stand without Kylo’s body holding you upright. You hear General Hux’s speech resound through the walls. And Kylo hears it to, for his neck stiffens, and his body pulls away to give you space to walk.

“Come Lieuten—” his mouth stops, and his eyes alight with some thrill, his lips pulling at the corner. “Apprentice” he corrects.

As he walks away, you try to fix your hair. Eyes wandering over the walls of where your portrait may be someday.

You hadn’t seen all the paintings. But a call in your mind turns your head. There, above them all, sat an image of Darth Vader. The boot of his foot laying on top of a young man’s head, the picture of moon in the background. There’s a building behind it, and you squint to catch the image.

It feels familiar to you. An old movie reel was playing through your mind searching for parts of a script you knew.

You look once.

Then again.

And again.

“I’ve seen this” you whisper, to yourself rather than to Kylo who has turned his head to follow your gaze.

It clicks slowly. Fragments of pieces bonding together in your mind. You knew that building — no — that temple. The one from the book in the Naboo church.

And there, behind the artistic vines and decapitated bodies, sits a painted green swirl, no bigger than your palm.

Your visions blurs, your eyes only catching the words underneath it.

_The Heinsnake Cult Massacre_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Readers Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/18/d7/ae18d74a7a9fae39fb2d8fc78b32d03e.jpg)   
>  [Levi's Outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bb/21/f6/bb21f6660db3c9546e656daff6f92bde.jpg)   
>  [Jeninnes Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/95/6d/e7/956de776ffdf3bc79acb05e4d2c9da13.jpg)   
>  [Alikas Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5e/76/0e/5e760e451653e056819b3424731b7381.jpg)   
>  [Kaleas Dress](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cf/89/7e/cf897eb257b3da8b9acc8f5d77d3764b.jpg)   
>  [Kylos Brooch](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/72/a8/6e/72a86e9cea43615a81a2f19b0ecbede5.jpg)


	17. II. Favilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could make a good excuse as to why this is so late. I can't. 
> 
> However, I have been staring in my own rom-com these past weeks. I'm talking, shoes off, running through the rain and making out with an American kind of romance. So, I may have been....distracted. However, I’m still very sorry about how long this took, and how short it is.

One could read a million stories, listen to every singers song and hear every travellers tale — _and yet_ — it would never breach the surface of the sea of urban legends. Half of which _cannot_ be true. You were sure, for example, that Alika made half her trainees cry, however, they didn’t burst each eyes tear drop from the force of their distress. They normally quit before that.

Rumours are rumours. Truth Is truth. They can intermingle, but they are never fully the same.

That’s why — mouth opened and eyes wide in front of the only clue you have — you wonder why you can’t recall any story. Any myth or legend or fucking _song._ There is no ‘ _Heinsnake’_ and, if there was a massacre, you assume there never would be again.

Except Hellford. The last of his kind.

The murder of his ancestors labelled a ‘massacre’ as if they are proud of it — _we_ , you correct. _We_ are proud of it. You keep separating yourself; you and Kylo as some alternate sect, flying above it all. But no — you were a part of this, the First Order is you and Hellford’s demise is your burden to bear.

“You didn’t mention _this_ ” Kylo’s baritone tickles your ear. You didn’t have to turn to see his annoyance. You had told him — no choice now — about _everything_. About the dance in Canto, about the symbol in the church, about the interrogations that he has missed. You had retracted Ushars involvement in letting you into the interrogation room (the guy pissed you off but you didn’t want him _mauled_ )

You’ve seen Kylo at his moodiest. His anger a boiling undercurrent in his every move. What you never saw was this _bitter_ wave. He pulls you towards him, the wrinkle in his brow and the strong grinding of his teeth was enough to put you on edge.

You square your shoulders. “oh, I’m _sorry_ man-on-a-mission, you were gone before I had the chance. Storming off to capture Hellford by yourself”

“And after Naboo?” Kylo sounded annoyed.

You could have told him. But you are no fool.

It was better to trust only yourself, than to trust someone who could hold a guillotine over your head.

“You didn’t trust me” he says, expression hardened, jaw flexing. Kylo was not someone who commonly looked _sad_. He had a way of hiding himself, covering his expressions with a mask and his soul with a wall you couldn’t climb. The force, however, could sense his disappointment.

You swallow, turning your head to avoid his sombre eyes. “You didn’t give me a reason to”

“Really?” his tone is vicious, and it makes you flinch on reflex. “I submitted to your every demand. Your every _whim_. I did what you asked of me, I considered your opinions and thoughts— “

“You are my superior!” You were in his face now, your dress restricting your flinging hand. “it already looks bad that I follow you around like some… _some lost puppy_. Maybe I don’t want to come to you about everything!”

“ _You should!”_

You scoff. “Why? So you can belittle me?!”

He flinches, as though this had personal offended him, but you both knew the truth. He could be brash, he could be vicious, he could be _cruel._ And – as much as part of you enjoyed it — you would not be spoken down to.

Not now. Not ever.

“We don’t have time for this”

For once, you agree with him.

If there was something about Hellford you needed to know — you needed to know before his transfer.

“Oh, so now you don’t want my thoughts and feelings _Commander_?” you snip, you didn’t want to fight. But sometimes — just sometimes — he deserved your anger. “Funny how things change when it suits you!”

His eyes are full of fury. And his stare hits you like a slap, the full weight of his power moving through you. 

The feeling is new. But it sinks through your sternum and wiggles round your chest cavity. You only realise what it is when you feel the heat. Kylo’s force signature was crawling through your skin. A dirty, silken heat full of more rage than you knew what to do with.

Gripping at your chest you stumble back against the wall, seeking the faux stability of stone and the cooling slabs of marble.

You never thought you would describe Kylo as gobsmacked. His lips are parted, half waiting on words he can’t say. And you know he felt it too. The connection your force signatures have, that make your bodies sing even in anger.

“The archives…” he grits his teeth, the words distorted by restraint. “…they might have something on Heinsnake”

They might have something on anger management too. If you're lucky.

* * *

You could still hear the revelry. The clinking of crystal flutes and Hux’s prissy voice. His speech had devolved into a testament to his control, each word shouted over the cornucopia of drunken cheering. In the walls of the archive room, it seemed a galaxy away.

It’s littered with texts, climbing along the rafters like vines. The older — more fragile — books are covered in a sheet of glass and you brush your fingers along the Rammahgon (a Jedi text you _definitely_ shouldn’t have in your possession). Kylo starts pulling them out with a bitter grit to his teeth. 

His carefully styled hair had been ruined by your wandering hands.

And you were a mixture of passion, power and rage.

The books are old, some barely hanging together and you rub the dust from their spin. It’s feels wrong to look for death within knowledge. A few names catch your eye, _The Anatomy of Gunagan Lung Capacity_ (you’re thankful no _other_ anatomy is discussed) and _Mirialians and Numerology_ are surprisingly large considering how much no one gives a _fuck_ about either topic. They also dig into your chest when Kylo pushes against your back.

You see his hand either side of your head. You don’t think you’ve ever been attracted to veins before — but things change.

He pulls a book from the top shelf. Before throwing it behind him.

You don’t have to read minds to know he’s fucking with you.

“Did you even check that book? It could be useful” you say. The front of your chest is grinding into the stacks, but his thighs keep your still.

“It’s not” he says.

You didn’t need to see him to feel his smug smile. Nor feel the strong weight of his body on your back as his thumb runs over the titles.

“I should….” You struggle to say _it_. Or your ego does. “I should apologise…”

“ _Please_ ” his hand roams the keyhole of your dress, while the other turns your face to the side. “Be my guest.” His eyes are shadowed, the delicate fan of his lashes giving his face a shadowed edge. “Apologise to me”

“I think…”he hissed, bringing his hands into your hair. He grabs as much as he can, and, with tight grip, pulls your head back into his shoulder. “…that you are a viper in the grass”

_“Oh?”_ is what you think you say, but it’s caught between a moan.

“Before you see it…” his words are misty, a smoky wave that distorts the more his knuckles rub over your inner thigh. “it already has its teeth in your neck”

Every word was clear and deliberate, understood without question. You had power over him. Your teeth were already in his neck. The more he squirmed, the more he fought and argued, the more he pushed. The deeper your teeth went.

There would be no escape from this.

“You taunt me” He pulls your dress up, letting your calf slip into his peripheral. “Give me flashes of skin, then hide it away” he murmured. For the briefest second you could swear his eyes flicked to your _thigh._ His fingers wrap around your thigh, pushing the sequins into your skin. “I would dream of _these legs_ ”

Your words were stuck.

“Do you dream of me?” he ventures.

You had no dreams. Only nightmares. Of voices you knew but couldn’t process and the slide of water on your skin. You _wished_ his face was what you saw at night. Kylo must know it, for he ‘ _hmms_ ’ into your ear, his other hand coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you tight into his chest.

_Is that a lightsabre in your pants or are you happy to see to me?_ You think, but don’t say.

He takes your silence as an answer enough.

“We should rectify that” his breath is warm and you swear you feel a brush of tongue on your neck. “You shall dream of me once I’m done with you”

“Why do you dream of me?” it sounds sadder then you meant it. “I don’t…”

_I don’t have anything to offer._

That’s what you wanted to say.

To question why his body has become melded to yours. How — in the space of weeks — you know the feeling of his muscles, the smell of mint and cedar on his clothes, the space he sets aside in his mind for poetry. You had built a space for each other.

He spoke like he knew your mind.

“I think you greatly underestimate the effect you have on me” he mumbles.

This was how you always ended up. You would fight and then have your tongues in each other mouths before you could remember why you were angry. So when he turns your face to hit his lips, you’re ready for it.

You’re just not ready for the feelings that come from it.

You finally — after ten long minutes of apologising with your tongue — get back to searching the results are sour. _Nothing_ is alphabetical. Rather it’s laid out from ‘ _aesthetically pleasing but useless’_ to ‘ _these books were expensive and therefore, we must showcase them’_

You find _it_ under ‘death cults’.

Your soft ‘ _aha’_ makes Kylo cock his head from his absorption in ‘ _Anaylse of the Bounter Hunters Code: 51 critical essays’_ to watch you pull a thick, bound journal from the stacks. It’s barely noticeable among the rest. Discounted and ignored.

_THE HEINSNAKE CULT_

_A cult of force users residing on an unidentified moon._

_Well known to kill themselves in the event of capture_

_Exterminated after an assassination attempt on Darth Sidious._

It gave a drawing, a closer depiction of your green swirl, which, on inspection, was a snakes body. A snake missing a head (you were not telling Alika that she was _so close_ ). The text underneath — scribed by hand — said:

_The Heinsnake requires no head to survive._

No it didn’t.

Hellford was enough.

As you flicked through you realise more and more was blacked out. Lines and lines of text with dark tape obscuring it. Alika had said that history was erased by those who write, who’s view changed the narrative. Someone must have not liked this version.

“Hmm” Kylo groans, leaning over your shoulder. “Kill themselves in the event of capture” he reads.

“He didn’t do that…” you frown, creasing at the brow. “He just let us take him. Why would he—"

The alarms ring. The lights dim. And you hear screaming.

* * *

There were three signs that sunk your heart when you made it back towards the holding cell: Vicrul was bleeding, Ushar was unconscious and Levi was _gone_.

You leave the Knights with Kylo, who pulled Ushar up by his underarms like a puppet. The Knights could handle themselves. They were breed for this, but Levi — your Levi — was _soft_. He wanted to build machines and eat good food; he was not a warrior. And he wasn’t _here._

You kept moving, spinning through corridor after corridor as though he would appear at the other end. Safe. Happy. Alive.

The force was within you and it swells in your chest like a burst spring, a rushing flow that floods your veins with more power than the cataclysm of Hosnian. It knew you and you it. It springs from your feet in rivets of tangles strands, or — at least — that’s how it feels. It bumps through walls, turning through the corridors with the fluidity of a serpent.

It hits something — a slow beating heart that had a deep rhythm.

A rhythm you knew. One inside a chest that you had cried on and you were running. Your heels struggling against the marble.

There was blood — lots of it. Someone had taken a brush to the wall, painting rivets of blood in a wide arch. It might as well be abstract art.

You eyes see Levi’s hunched form and JD-1 terrified beeps and you were lost.

“It’s not mine” Levi’s whispers as you through yourself down on your knees, holding his head back to check his face. The sharp line of cheek was littered with tissue bruising and his delicate nose was bloody.

“Are you sure? Sometimes people won’t notice injuries for ages after they’ve occurred and—”

“It’s not mine” He says. He wraps a hand through the material of your dress, his other hidden under his jacket. “I put up a fight”

“Of course you did” you breath, the tension dissipating in one long breath. Now you had to find the devil. “Hellford…”

“Gone”

You nod. He’s a snake, they don’t stay still for long.

“He took us by surprise. Didn’t even get past the door before he was on us” Levi lifts himself to lean further against the wall and JD whines by his side. “He’s something else—”

“I know what he is” you say.

A monster.

“Do you remember what I told you?” He brings his hand o your cheek, running his thumb along your jaw. “About base fuel systems?”

You remembered something. It was so minuet, but you hear Levi’s voice, the exhaustion in his face and the hollowed indent of his cheeks. You knew what he said.

‘ _One match to these things and they’ll blow up’_

He couldn’t blow this place up. “He can’t…” you say. But your mouth snaps shut.

He could.

_The lighter._

You had left it with him in the interrogation room. You hadn’t known — you didn’t know — otherwise you wouldn’t have—

It doesn’t matter. He had the match, all he had to do was strike it.

Levi hisses a sharp breath, hands bunched into the side of his jacket.

“Go” he lifts a bony hand to your face, his touch cold. “He pays attention to you”

“Levi—”

“This place will go up like the Death Star”

“Are you—”

“ _I’m fine”_ He bites. You catch the site of blood in his hair and the urge to _stay_ — to hold him to your chest and let this place drown— chokes you. Levi turns his head to JD-1 who was opening a pack of plasters. “I’ve got a nurse. _Go_ ”

As you go to leave, he wraps a hand around wrist, turning you in his grip.

He stares. Holds you and looks. Memorising each ridge with one look.

“Thank you” he says, you don’t know what he’s thanking you for. “Go”

* * *

The fuelling system runs though base, powering it’s every action. The source, however, was a step staircase into the inner workings of Canto. Deep below the glamour and the lights.

You had left Kylo. Hadn’t stopped to explain anything to him. Hellford is your burden and you will end it here and now.

He had called you a dog. Well, hungry dogs are never loyal.

And you are _starved_.

Hellford was always one step ahead. And as you walk down the _literal_ staircase, you realise he’s at least twenty-three steps ahead. Twenty-three steps covered in liquid — a viscosity that makes your heels slip harshly, and, despite the fashion disaster, you have to pull them off before you break an ankle.

It was only on the last step that you slip.

“As delicate as ever” Hellford voice sounds, bouncing through the room with booming insistence.

The room was wide. High ceilinged and sweltering with furnace heat. The water — or what you had thought was water— was a pierced fuel pipe, seeking out over the walls and pooling on the floor, high enough that it hit your ankle.

And there he stood. Arms open, palms to the sky, and, rather than a single candle to give him light, a lighter sat in one hand.

“Put it down”

The light frames his sharp jaw, and the teeth glint a bright white. “Do you really want me to do that?”

You look at the floor. The _highly flammable_ floor.

Not your finest moment.

“I mean—

“You know what _your_ people have done?” he flicks the flame on and off. His eyes trapped in a hypnotism, he looked glazed. His eyes devoid of anything except the rhythmic clicking of the lighter. “You must have figured it out by now. I gave you every clue”

“Yes, I know”

“And?”

“They were murdered due to treason—

“ _Treason_? Is that how they tell the story?” Hellford laughs, sickening with bitterness. “Should I tell it for you?”

You assumed you wouldn’t get a choice. It’s a villains right to monologue after all.

“We were sorcerers once, born from the dark side and masters of our arts. Our powers rivalled the Sith in their ferocity” his feet splash liquid over his robe, the lighter casual flicking on and off, setting your heart rate on edge.

His hand comes up to scratch at his head, all it hits is the raw skin of a cut-out braid. “We bowed to the One. The chosen one who would come, and we would _swear_ fealty. We predicted his coming….” he nods, licking his lips in recollection “…and we were not disappointed”

He catches you eye. And you feel _caught._

“it was no joyous revelation” He confirms. “It was our _reckoning_ ”

“We were not loyal to Darth Sidious” He shakes his head. “We were loyal to Darth Vader. Sidious used us as a test. A test of Vader’s loyalty” you were powerless, wringing your dress sleeves with your hand. “Would he stand with us and destroy the Empire? Or would he kill us?”

He sighs, almost mockingly, as though something about this made him laugh. “You know which option he chose”

“How old are you?” you say.

“As old as the force allows me to be”

“Don’t do this….” Your voice breaks, but your eyes see the dancing flame. You would not die. Not yet. “…. don’t go this way”

“I should not revenge my family’s death…because a _little girl_ told me so? Hmm.” He brings the lighter to his eyes. “ _I think not_ ”

You had no weapon. Nothing but yourself.

“Well then.” He flips the lighter shut and you think that’s it. That he was repenting, overwhelmed with some urge to not commit a mass murder. You were too hopeful. He smiles the smile you know from Canto, that sharp, manic thing, that sets you on edge. “Should we waltz?”

Your mind expects the hit. Your body doesn’t.

Your head swings but the fist is already thrown, his knuckle hurling into your lip. You didn’t have enough time to admire his jewellery before the cold metal of his ring spills blood.

“Darth Vader” he spits, bring his hands to the side of your neck. “Kylo Ren” his fingers dig into the nerves behind your ears. “You” he digs his nails in and your screaming, your ears burning. “Murderers. All of you.

Your hearing obliterates. A fuzzy static and the sound of your pumping blood rushes to your ear drums. His lips were moving, sprays of spit hitting your cheek, but all you hear was your own voice — the one in your head that told you to _move._

Shoulder ramming into the wall, your feet grab for purchase, finding nothing but tiled floor which slips under your feet. He was no longer a man, only a monster. All essence of the controlled man you knew was lost. His hand clings to your dress, holding you against the wall and your eyes notice a crack in his ring.

You’d break more of him — given the chance

You use one leg bent against the wall as a springboard and threw your weight into his chest, throwing him beneath you with one simply move. The lighter scatters, spinning over the wet floor and hitting the wall. He watches it go.

He frowns, but he’s enjoying it.

You lift your arm to swing but he has you. Nails sinking into side until he has enough grip to push you to the floor. You throw your knee, but it does not connect to his ribs with enough force. He throws his arms onto your biceps, digging his knees into your thighs until his weight keeps you down.

“You could kill me with the power you have” you breath, kicking your legs against his hold. “Why don’t you?”

“I like getting my hands on you” he grins, the dark colour of his eyes absorbing them entirely.

You had one option. And you took it.

Planting your feet on the ground, you lift your head and slam your forehead into the bridge of his nose. He titters, for a moment, then his hand wraps around your throat. The digging of his rings cutting into your skin. You could imagine the in print of flowered bruises on your throat.

But _he_ was here.

You feel him before you see him.

The dark burning of a man unhinged. Your man.

You knew of dark magic, of the sorceress use of the force. Though you had never seen it. But when Kylo enters, the fuel seeping into his trousers, you see Hellford’s change. The line of his shoulders square and you think you should say _anything_. A warning — maybe.

But it’s too late.

Kylo lifts his sabre and the force leaks out of Hellford like a tsunami. Tangible black tendrils that throw Kylo into the back wall, seeping around his throat and ripping the sabre from his hands.

He’s saying something — you think — Kylo’s mouth moves aggressively, but it is lost. You hear nothing but pain and your own rushing blood. They are at war, Kylo throwing his weight towards Hellford who hold himself comfortably, enjoying the power. Enjoying the thrill.

The sabre. It’s there, hidden under a shelving unit, obscured by the fuel. You move your hand and it spins, slowly.

There’s taunting. You catch distorted voices and, although your body is weak, you try to lift yourself. Kylo says ‘ _no’_ and Hellford is on you again. Boot on your stomach, pushing you to the ground, with a force you can’t compete with. To die underneath a man’s foot. How the misogynists would sing your praises.

Monsters. Looking at his face, you didn’t know they could be this beautiful. Though, you suppose, the best hidden ones are. He brushes his thumb over your cheek, his braids dangling over your face and shutting out the rest of the room in a curtain. He pushes his knuckle into a bruise on your face.

Monster.

Monster.

_Monster._

“You won’t win” you say, dragging his eyes back to your face. Your hand stretches out and the sabre rolls to one side.

You can kill a Monster.

You were that girl. The one who starved, the one who fought, the one who lived. And now, the one who killed.

The strings of your force pull, and, with a flick of two fingers, the sabre flips into your hand, ignites and sinks into Hellford’s waiting body.

He pulls your hand until the sabre sinks into his side, like a hot knife to butter.

“Sweetheart” he is mouthing. His hands link over yours. An anchor in his death. “You already lost”

The sabre flickers, once, twice and the spark hits the fuel like a pebble hitting water.

The world becomes a supernova and everything burns. 


	18. III. Nex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this hurt my soul? Absolutely. Once again, this is crazy late (I worked 7am till 9pm 😭) but it’s here! 
> 
> I love all your comments 💕💕

You didn’t think death would be so _loud._

You wanted silver staircases, moving ‘ _into the light’_ and ascending into the force. At most, you wanted a harp to play your entry music and a ghost to welcome you into the afterlife with nerd nuggets and blue milk. Instead, you hear screaming. Deafening, otherworldly voices that shake your bones and make you heart race, or, it would — if you weren’t dead

Death smells like cooked meat. It tastes like ash. And sounds like fire alarms.

_Honestly_ , you thought, _pretty mediocre._

You feel a weight on your body, harsh and heavy to point where you think it was a beam that killed you. You really hoped it was something cooler than that. You wanted your obituary in the First Order newsletter.

You hear something.

And you wonder if someone comes to collect you in the afterlife.

“ _Get up”_

Whoever it is, they are fucking bossy. If you wanted to saunter to your death at snail pace, then you fucking would. It was a catwalk, not a race. You’d take your damn time.

“ _Lieutenant”_

You were a dead apprentice now, no one should call you Lieutenant. One one person did that and they would eventually forget you existed. You’d be another body in a list of thousands.

You would never get your pension.

The realisation that you are not dead hits fast, because — when you open your eyes — Hellford’s chargrilled head is staring back at you.

“Holy shit” your mouth is too dry and your words come out as ashes. Maybe because it’s is full with _literal ashes._

Spitting, choking and half vomiting, you free the ash from your throat. A hand rubs your back, another comes to lift your chest from the floor, letting the congested air flow freely. You would know the wide splay of those hands even if you were blind, deaf and twelve cocktails deep.

“Breathe”

You roll your eyes, hunched over the scuffed floor. “Does it look like I’m holding my breath?”

Kylo’s hair Is tussled, rubbed with ash and dirt and he pushes it from his face while he pulls you up. “You must be fine if you can still talk to me with _that_ mouth” 

“How are we not—”

“—dead?” Kylo finishes.

He turns his head to the wall, towards where you had stabbed Hellford.

A net of power had stopped it. 

The fire hadn’t touched you. _It_ hadn’t let it. It was the force, but it flowed through the air with a ballerina’s poise tainted with an emerald glow. It felt _alive._ It’s thrumming heartbeat synching with yours and you sense the bond between you.

It had held you and Kylo. Wrapped you in a silken embrace that saved you even as the world burnt and the walls caved in — and they _caved._ The room as built on shrapnel, the hole in the celling allowing a down-pouring of rain to dose the tiniest flames. The walls had been thrown outwards, shrapnel of tech scatter along the floor and cut into your bare feet.

Hellford had not been as fortunate as you. 

A blackened skeletal heap was all that remained.

Ironically, the only part of him unburnt was his rings. A pile of them sit on a bed of marled skin and you fish one out. It burns your palm, the decorated vines soldering a mark into your skin and you think this is your punishment. That would scar. And you would remember this.

You would _remember_ this.

The green light flickers.

“How did you…” you didn’t know what you wanted to ask, there was a whole load of ‘ _hows’_. But your eyes were enraptured by the green rivets of light. They move like smoke and tangle you in a net of spritely particles and a humming electricity. It was autonomous, moving on its own over each crevice.

Kylo looks at it to. Lost in the light, jaw slack and tongue running along his bottom lip.

_“I_ didn’t” is Kylo’s reply.

His eyes are burning with wonder and he looks at you with the energy of Canto’s underworld, with the feeling of your first touch of force, with the passion of the night of Bothawui. You felt like you were _known._

You point at yourself. “Did I…”

The light shifts, bringing itself into your skin, seeping through layers and layers of body until it resides back where it belongs. And it did belong there. Sunken in your chest, brimming with light.

“I guess I did” you say, stuck between awe and the confusion.

The smoke drifts and your body seem to return to you. Whereas before you felt a distinct numbness, now you come to life. You feel the burn on your palm, the scraps on your knees and the bruised line of your throat. There’s a blistering heat in your hand and the sickening slippery feeling of blood pooling under your nails.

Four of your nails at least.

That was definitely a missing finger.

Your middle finger — to be exact.

“It will heal” The Commander lifts your hand, and, despite your bitter expression, his mouth rises at the corner. “Probably”

“ _Will it?!”_ Your lift your bloodied finger, the skin flapping on your palm. “I don’t think you’re medically trained to deal with this. Does this look like it’s going to heal?”

“Not if you keep throwing your hand about”

“I’m missing a finger Kylo!” He raises an eyebrow at you while you hold the stub by his face. “Not my fucking purse” though you had lost your purse too. Kylo brushes the blood of his cheek with his thumb, smudging the ash along his jawline, and completely disinterested in your rage.

“This isn’t replaceable!” you shout.

“Darth Vader had a metal hand” he states, ripping the side of his shirt.

You laugh mockingly. “ _Darth Vadar had a —_ shut the fuck up”

He wraps the material over your hand, even though that look in his eye made you think he wanted to shove it in your mouth. His other hand contained his lightsabre.

“Oh but the lightsabre made it? _Fantastic_ ” you mock, as he tightens the shirt around your hand. “I lose a finger but your glowstick is unharmed”

Jeninne was going to freak too.

Your dress was also ruined. The material charred to nothingness on your legs, leaving way less to the imagination than you planned, the edges roughed by burnt sequins.

“You look _obscene_ ” Kylo runs his eyes over your bare legs.

You push your foot through the rubble looking for footing. “Stop trying to get your dick wet when we almost died”

A crunch echoes as your foot comes down on something hard. Everything inside of you _knew_ that it was the sound of a bone. You didn’t know what would be worse — if it was Hellford’s or yours. Looking down, you spot the flash of a silver lacquered nail and nausea rolls at the vision of you stepping on your own finger.

Flipping people off is now extra difficult. And you weren’t left-handed.

Meandering through the glass and shrapnel, you step through the graveyard of your bad decisions, towards a hole in the wall, sharp with cut metal. You feel the heat of the sun and you wonder if you have already made it till morning.

It was no sun.

You turn your head to the sky and all you feel is heat. The fire had spread. The force had disintegrated the flames near you. But the city burns in its place.

Canto was alight in a blaze of _red_.

You had wanted this place to burn to the ground. You didn’t think it would be at your hand.

The marble spirals of the Canto base were crippled at the foundations, parts falling through the roof and down to the golden pavement below. Running, pushing, crying — people scatter like rain drops, skittering into the night as the city burns. A woman clips your shoulder as she runs past, you turn to apologise… and her face has turned to wax, the skin dripping from her cheek and you have to turn to quell the nausea from the smell of burnt skin.

Hellford was right. It smells like cooked meat.

Children are screaming. Droids are melted and indented from the sheer temperature. The dark nights is an expanse of fireworks.

You did this.

Alika had called you chaos. And she spoke it into existence. You had spread like wildfire and these people — innocent people — will suffer for it. You were a contagion on this fucking place.

Your eyes swell with tears. “I did this”

“No” Kylo says, hand spinning his sabre to life. “Hellford did this”

No, he didn’t.

You gave him the match, the ammunition, the goddamn weapon he wielded. You created this.

The base is a ring of devils fire. Flames licked the window in teasing roar, as if to beckon you closer and add you to its body count. They sauntered over the cornucopias of tech, clung to trees and bent metal. Even in death, Hellford managed to raised hell.

But it’s not you that the fire will claim.

“Levi’s in there” you recall. “And JD-1 and Jeninne, even the twins”

A spark alights and the booming sound of an explosion echoes over the street.

The hole in the portrait room was burning away at the foundations.

“Going in there is suicide” Kylo states, pushing a curious onlooker to the side. “We’ll evacuate who we can, use the knights to distribute medical aid and—”

It _would_ be _stupid_ to go in there.

Luckily, you’re not that smart.

It’s a split second of pure confidence and _balls_ that makes you run for it. Kylo’s scream of ‘ _Lieutenant’_ becoming lost inside the roaring flames and the heat of the portrait room.

The problem with your hero complex is that, while the fire may burn, no one warns you about the smoke. That’s the true danger and It’s strikes you like a wall. The portrait room was a film of smoke, flittering pages of oil painting crisp and flitter into parts, creating a puzzle of too many pieces.

But the _smoke_ — it encompasses everything. It could take minutes to choke you, if you weren’t fast.

You used the rope to feel your way, wandering along the melted faces of your predecessors who eyes can no longer judge you — they were cremated now. You crouch, keeping low to where to smoke is lesser and the air was fresher. You think you hear Kylo. And the sound of Ushar and Vicrul amongst the sound of burning.

They have voices that carry.

Your eyes are lost. Nothing but smoke and darkness cover you. You should be used to this – the unrelenting darkness. You were not ready for how all-consuming it was. Your throat starts to burn, gritty like you have swallowed sand, and your eyes begin to water.

Until you see a little green light.

JD-1’s light.

“You clever boy” you sigh, sliding down on to your knees by the light and grasping at JD-1s form.

There was a cable over JD-1’s wheel the other hooked over Levi’s ankle.

Your little droid had bought him to _you_.

* * *

Pulling the weight of a six-foot two-inch man required you and JD-1 to drag him through the rubble with more strength than you ever possessed. Through the wall and out into chaos on the streets, cobbled with people in frantic motions and the rain crying down upon the fires.

As you drag Levi away from the building, you see Kylo holding a pink array which must be Jeninne, her voice raging against the entire First Order.

The flames paint the sky red, and, as you smile down at Levi, you see the ground was painted red too.

It was painted in blood. Lots of it.

Levi`s jacket falls to the side, and, amongst the jacket and the velvet interior, you see a wound. A wound far bigger than your palm.

“Darling” Levi groans.

His voice was barely audible, and you throw yourself next to him, JD-1 coming to hold his face in his metal arms.

“I don’t. I don’t know what to do” and you didn’t. You pull the scrap of Kylo’s shirt from your hand, stuffing it over Levi’s wound and pushing until the material soaks through. JD-1’s flower patterned plasters are sinking into the wound.

Levi grits his teeth, hands coming to wrap around your wrist.

Your teeth bring blood from your tongue. “You said the blood wasn’t yours”

“Would have gone if I said otherwise?”

You wouldn’t have.

You would have stayed.

You would have done _something._

None of this would have happened.

“Do not blame yourself for something you can’t control” Levi sighs, his voice a meek. “I made my decision. Other people needed saving, Hellford needed stopping”

_I saved nothing,_ you think.

He taps JD-1 on the head. Thick lines of blood running over his new paintwork and pooling in his wheels, and — if he was brighter, full of life —Levi would scorn the cleaning costs. Jd-1 beeps a meagre sound and you hear ‘ _better now?_ ’ in droid to which Levi gives a sad smile.

“Your file, I still have it—” he chokes on blood, and your body is thrown over his. “It’s in my laptop. Username code: LVV87–“

“I don’t give a fuck about some file!” you aggressively interrupt.

He brings a hand to your face. “Look at me—“

“I don’t want your _last speech_!” you spit, the frustration slipping into your voice.

“—Darling” his thumb rubs over your cheekbone.

His eyes are still the colour of lake waters, his cheekbones sharp and pronounced, his hair a cherubic rivet of gold. He was an angel, an innocence left unmarred by all this _shit._ And you could not — _would not_ —lose him.

He must live, for — without him — you were not whole.

You are part of one another.

“ _Please”_ he whispers.

His hand, weak with exhaustion, grips you tight. Sinking the other into his own blood, he begins to write along your skin. He paints your arm in his life. The letters (or number) and mismatch of O+ and your spillage of tears and snot. It was not his username. It was a scrabble of what could be words.

“What is this supposed to mean?” you say, watching Levi’s eyes flicker in disassociation. “ _Levi_ ”

You slip your hands underneath his head, letting his energy seep out of his body and into your palms. He taps JD-1 with a finger, rubbing the flecks of his fresh paint and making him push his head into Levi’s palm.

“I’m better now” he whispers.

His eyes do not close. Rather the force in him unravels, flies in the night and takes your _heart_ with it.

* * *

That’s how Kylo finds you.

Holding onto his body with vice grip. Because if you don’t let go, he’s not gone. The force could fix it, somehow, and you push and pull with everything you have, holding his blood in your hands, as though you could breathe life into it with touch alone.

You might be crying. Or cold. But you can’t feel _anything._ Nothing but the weight of him, the feel of the velvet jacket and the touch of JD-1’s arm.

Arms grab you, strong enough that —when you throw your weight forward—they hold you tight. That —when you dig your nails into their skin— they don’t let go. And —when you fight and scratch—they tie you down.

There’s kicking and screaming. It might be you. It might not. But you hear Alika's’ voice like water in your ears and Kalea’s high pitched wailing.

And — for the first time - you hear a droid cry.


	19. I See Dead People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Tumblr! 
> 
> I know my updating schedule has been hella out of whack, I am trying to get a hold of it now that I have one week of work training left. BUT WE HAVE HIT OVER 11,000 HITS (which I don't think it is a lot in Kylo Ren fan fiction, but it's a lot for me)
> 
> I know some people were shocked by Levi's death, but it was already planned — which sucks because his character was one of my faves.

Trauma is a sneaky thing.

It waits until you think it’s fine, till the river settles and storm clouds lift, till the point where you feel _numb_. Then it hits you. It takes one smell of someone’s perfume, the sound of a song once lost, the touch of jumper —and it takes your back.

Kylo had locked you in his quarters on the finalizer, leaving you to attend to the disaster outside, the knights hanging of his every order. It was there you were left to simmer into a stupor. You begin to pace. Up and down, touch the desk, turn around and go back. Up and down. Up and down.

The walls are white. But, if you close your eyes, it all looks red.

Your hands feed into your hair, and, against all rational thought, you start to _pull._ The pain a release from the turmoil and the spin of your head. It was a lesser pain than others suffering. Than _his_ suffering.

Your hands — the hands that murdered — are stained in blood. The blood sinking into your very pores and held in every crevice.

This will be your punishment. The blood will follow where you go and you shall carry it with you.

Slipping on the tiles — feet damaged by rubble and flames — you run the bath. Your hands dying the water pink. The water warms your bones and you finally realise how cold you had become. The dress is drenched and mud drawn, your hair is matted with blood, your feet have become scratched to rivets, not to mention your missing finger — the nub wrapped in steri strips.

Dress pulled away, hair pulled from its pins and eyes bloodshot, you seep into the bath.

The water goes the colour of Jeninne’s hair.

You had dreamed of water for so long, it’s only now you feel the same choking feeling. Head dipped back you sink into the water, letting it cover your face and wash the soot from your eyes.

And you just lay.

You lay until your body numbs.

You lay until the light darkens.

You lay until Kylo’s voice sounds.

The waters gone cold and you start to shiver. The faucet is damaged, and you think about the cost of repairs, how you need to get your dress dry cleaned, how JD-1 will need his circuits professionally checked, — anything. Anything but _him._

Someone’s at the door. You hear low voices, whispers, and then someone shouts. You push your head under the water, closing your eyes, shutting your mind until the voices are a continuous humming. For once, you didn’t want to speak. You didn’t want to scream. You wanted the relief of silence.

Kylo comes in and stands by the bath. He says something. Something that’s lost in the water and the swell of blood in your ears.

“Get out” is what it looks like.

It’s accompanied by a frown and marks of ash. An Ares in the midst of minor gods.

“I don’t want too” is what you think you say. But it’s lost in the bubbles.

His hands twitch at his side. A common tick that he can’t seem to help.

“You’re freezing”

_An astute observation_ , you think.

You shrug. Your body was riddled with the cold, but you would warm up. Some bodies stay cold.

“Lieutenant.” He says, voice deep with smoke damage and annoyance. He didn’t call you ‘ _Apprentice_ ’ — old habits die hard.

You sink slightly further under the water. “Just let me”

“Stand” He orders, pulling off each of his gloves with a fast grip. “I’m asking you now. I’ll start lifting you if I have to”

You’d let him man-handle you any day. You roll your head against the bath. It’s not comfortable and the side rubs into your neck. Usually, you would be ashamed of your nudity, but now you lay there. Flapping your hands about without a care. Watching the water flite and sway.

Nothing mattered. So why bother to fight?

Why not lay here in the water, until you succumb to it and become one.

Kylo does not share your desire. But was does he share besides rage and bodily fluids? He rolls each of his sleeves up, bunching it on his biceps before he puts his arms underneath your wet body and pulling you from the bath. It’s almost embarrassing how little effort it takes for him to lift you.

He wraps you in a towel. He’s careful and you wonder if he had siblings or grew up around children. He had a secret soft side (well, not _that_ soft) His hands are still rather rough as he rubs you down.

You spot your dress of starlight — or what’s left of it — slumped in a pile on the floor.

“I want it burnt” you say, the dress mocking you with its glittering brightness. “Burn it all”

He wraps your hair in a towel, surprisingly careful for a man of darkness. “Jeninne will deal with it”

“Is she…”

“She’s fine” he interrupts. And as he swallows you catch a burn mark on his throat, still tender and red. “Shaken but well. She will not be sneaking into anymore parties”

“Was that a joke?”

His hands stutter. The movement letting him hold the towel against your chest while water dripped along your skin. Even a man with no social ability knew that making a joke wasn’t appropriate. Your humanity must be rubbing off on him.

“Hold still” is what he says.

You weren’t moving.

He slips his hands around you, lifting you like a babe and rolling your head against his chest. He still smells like fire, the smoke sinking into his clothing and you have to hold back the tears.

Before there was only fire, not there was only water.

He drops you — still losing his delicate touch —into the bed. And you fold into it. Burying your head into the pillow, bunching the sheet around your body and feeling the movement of the springs. You hadn’t cried. You had held it in.

Now the dams open. The river flows. And you’re begging to fall.

You expected him to leave. He had completed his responsibility to you, there was no agreement for him to stay there while you cried. But the bed dipped, his arms cover you and his mouth lands in your hair.

He’s dirty. You’re clean. And your skins taint each other as the city burns, the dead lay cold and your spirit dismantles into dust.

* * *

There are no funerals for your dead.

Only mourning.

It took days for you to return to the living. Hair matted with sweat and eyes tainted with tears. It was pulling a puppet back to life — all the pieces were there but the string was cut. Kylo had no time, moving the men as chess pieces and rebuilding a lost base. You were left to stew, suffer until it swallowed.

When the mist lifted and the darkness cleared, you laid in the tear stoked bed, the sounds of building works continuing outside. JD-1 beeps from the floor — a sound of confusion rather than joy — as your form comes to life.

The bed was not empty, you fall into a rivet of pink hair.

Your mouth feels dry and your voice cracks. “Jeninne?”

She shuffles in your arms. Turning to face you under the sheets.

“Little bird” she sighs, her voice soft like satin. “I have missed your voice”

You didn’t remember her ever crawling into bed. But you don’t remember getting in pyjamas, or brushing your hair, or washing your face. But you smelt like mint, clean linen and cheap face wash.

“How long have I been like this?” you say, pulling yourself up to sit against the pillows.

“Three days child” she sighs, her breath tickling your face. Three days. You have lost three days in some delirious slump. Time has been stolen and you barely had any as it was. “Sorry, I crawled in. I thought you may need the company, no?”

You stand on shaky legs, JD-1 reaching around to push you up with an arm. “Thank you”

Jeninne looks elysian, despite the cut in her eyebrow and the singe on the end of her hair. Her initials were even sewn into her own pyjamas.

“I always wanted to feel a rich man’s bed” she sighs, wrapping the sheets around her chest. “It’s like a marshmallow”

The light had risen, the sun burning through the window, and the city of Canto coming to life. There’s a scurrying of droids carrying a pillar of metal tubing between themselves, zooming through the crowd with a sever lack of balance. Or direction. Building works were already underway it seemed. Half the city had managed to conjugate around the base, many of the residents shouting obscenities, and — despite her status — the Countess of Cantonica and her necklace of onyx stand among the generals.

She did not look best pleased.

Neither did those scrubbing the blood of the streets.

It was the blood-soaked cloths that made you remember. That reminded you what had happened, who you were, and where _he_ was.

“A funeral” you say, voice dulled by melancholy. Jeninne raises one eyebrow, making an ‘ _eh?’_ sound and shuffling the sheets so she can stand. “I need to give him a funeral. I need to sort everything”

The designer wraps her hands around your waist, your face falling into her hair. She smells like honeyed dates and pistachios, her hands rubbing as much of her back as she can reach with her small stature and tiny palms. She has a strength in her that you could not match, a stunning positivity in her softness that becomes infectious.

“You have time” she whispers.

“He doesn’t” you reply.

Jennine winces. Kylo must have told her.

She runs her hands over your hair, the nail catching on some strands. “The First Order does not do funerals”

“I know”

“But Canto does” she picks ups a robe. Hers — if the salmon pink plush is any indication— and wraps it around you. “You are on our ground. Do not let them dictate you little bird”

“His body—”

“I will get the body” she states, the simplistically of the statement contracting the fact that Jeninne was, somehow, going to steal a body. “No morgue has power over a Neveru”

You did not know what Jennine would do or what she would say. But in the dark set of her eyes was a promise. A promise of trust, friendship, and — in the eyes of a hurricane — stability. She lets you rest your head on her shoulder, swaying in the warmth of day and just holding.

The smallest touch your simple saviour.

* * *

Canto has no graveyard — the plastic surgery rate so high that they could avoid death itself — it did, however, have an array of metal plaques, names engraved in gold foil and polished by tiny droids. His name stood in the middle. Rows away from the streets and the fluttering eyes of the first class. 

It was not what you had wanted, for his name to be here. But you can only take his spirit with you. The signature of his soul still embedded in your heart: a touch of knitted wool, the warmth of a summers evening and the smell of salt. The cold writing on a plaque could not match that feeling.

It said three simple things.

_Leviathan Vos_

_6 ABY – 34 ABY_

_Your life was a blessing_

His name looks _vile_ among the names of others not worthy to be in his presence. Light lived and died with him. And _no one_ could bring back the sun.

You stand in front of his name, the weather turning dark as clouds move in from the west. His family name a mockery to who he truly was.

The Vos family had controlled areas of the Crimson Dawn syndicate for years. A pack of ruthless animals they are, spiralling through city raids and ‘ _security enforcement’_ jobs. Although their influence is no longer large, their marks are still felt, and, for Levi, he felt the weight of their presence wherever he went. His name tainted in a bloody legacy.

You had contacted them — out of necessity rather than respect— and they replied with one sentence.

_Bury the body. Send us the bill._

You sent them a bill. With an extra surcharge of two thousand credits for being _assholes_ (all of which was spent on paying a pair of lawyers to ensure that Levi’s will is taken care off). There was no fancy funeral. The First Order deemed it _irresponsible_ to waste precious time on a ‘ _trifling funeral’_. Instead, You and Officer Laylan (roped in to help) had him cremated, his ashes split between a cylinder of steel and the locket that hung around your neck.

A piece of him with you. Until the day you are taken too.

You stand in front of his name feeling the sun dip down your back. The locket hangs in the valley of your chest and your hand runs over the top, well, the fingers that are still attached. The medical department was making a metal replacement, but, for now, it left an uncomfortable gap.

Your heart slithers into your throat. You think it’s the emotion, that you would have soak you jacket sleeves for the fifth time in the past three days. The power swirls in your heart and you knew what it was. Force calling like siren.

Your force intuition was rife. Every signature unique to each person and setting you off like an alarm.

Alikas presence was felt like a stab in the back.

“His name was Leviathan?” her voice is rougher today, as though even _she_ had cried. You turn to see her, heels clacking upon the pavement.

Your mouth lifts as much as it can with mourning weighing it down. “There’s a reason he went by Levi”

She’s dressed in white — an interesting colour to mourn in. It’s a long line suit, caped at the shoulder with pockets big enough to hide a weapon. And she would be hiding a weapon.

She rubs a finger over her lip. “Another body to add to the list”

“Don’t call him that”

“What?”

“A body”

“I’m speaking the truth” she says, Your jaw must shudder or she saw the water rise in your eyes. “Don’t cry. We have no time for it. The Finalizer will be up in the air before the end of the week, you cannot be a blithering mess when we leave”

Biting your tongue, you bring your eyes to Levi’s name, now shadowed by the moving clouds, Alika a vexing presence on your left. Despite her, evil, conniving and borderline vindictive personality — Alika was right. You could not be crying when the First Order ascended. You are still part of a war.

“Watch your back” she murmurs, dragging a finger over the back of your jacket. “You’re under constant surveillance”

Your eyes see Vicrul and Ushar standing by the edge of the platform, lit under the evening lights and looking — no, not looking — _watching._ Eyes like arrows pointed only at you. They had been following you for a while, acting as though you would be too stupid to notice, like two men dressed in black, wearing helmets and carrying humongous weapons was _incognito._

You raise an eyebrow at Alika. “They aren’t being particularly subtle”

She stands by your side. The white suit a stark contrast to her skin and the evening sky. A passer-by could mistake her for an angel, the light of the setting sun bathing her in a halo of gold. It’s unfortunate that her personality is demonic.

Alika walks around you, rubbing her hand over your nape. “Snoke will want to see you after all this”

Ah yes, you would have to answer for everything.

“Am I losing my job?” you ask.

Alikas eyes are glazed. Her mouth trembles for mere seconds before she schools her expression. She was a warrior, able to be guarded even in the face of death, able to absorb the darkness and bend it at will. She would not cry.

Too much suffering and tears start to dry up.

“There are worse things to lose than your job” she says, head hooked over your shoulder, her eyes locked on Levi’s name.

Her lips touch your ear and you can’t help but flinch. “I must ask—”

“No, you mustn’t”

“—how did you survive?” she purrs, stepping around you and hovering her hand over the front of your dress jacket, the sheen of her skin silky with hand cream.

“Sheer luck” you snip, words more venomous than you intended.

“Yes” she nods. “It would be unlikely that your talent saved you”

You teeth sink into your lip in an attempt to quell your rage. “Have you come to mourn or insult me?”

“To warn you” Alika states. “You’re down one ally. You might want another Princess”

You can’t help but scoff. “You aren’t my ally”

Alika ‘ _hmmms’_ and ‘ _ahhhs_ ’ letting her hand run over your suit jacket almost brushing your bare skin. Her eyes lock on to the locket on your chest and her eyes flicker. “You should reconsider. You manage to burn half a city, kill a prisoner and manage to survive an explosion that ripped through the base walls”

“As I said…” You say, watching her fist grip your lapel. “Luck”

“Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s another secret of yours. Either way…” Her eyes catch yours, dark and wandering. And hiding an emotion you couldn’t touch. “You’ve just become the celebrity of the hour”

Your mouth slams shut. You did not have the energy to fight this woman. Not right now. She sees it in your face and her mouth drops. Slowly, she brings her lips to two of her fingers and places them on Levi’s name, letting the kiss hover on the metal.

“I’ll be seeing you Princess”

She pushes the same fingers against your forehead. And with that, she was gone.

Returning to Kylo’s room was like returning home.

It was safety, protection and a small comfort in the midst of a storm. It still smells like mint and the eucalyptus shampoo but still tastes like ash. The ship avoided the fire, but the smoke spread over Cantonica as a shroud. Looking out of the window, you see the hanger covered in a fine sheen of soot, droids scrubbing the ash from the walls and Generals screaming. 

You chuck your jacket on a chair.

Alikas touch had tainted it.

You slip your shoes off, walking through the chilled floor towards the bed. There, on top of the covers, sat the Commander. He must have heard you and the force would have felt you. But he keeps his eyes locked on the datapad, his hair falling over his face and shirt removed.

He was waiting for you to move.

Trying to be careful around a skittish animal. Does he think you’ll cry if he speaks? Does he think of you as so fragile?

Maybe it’s rage that makes you do what you do. Maybe it’s desperation — it doesn’t matter.

Your knee falls on the bed, your other leg coming over the straddle his hips. Kylo makes no noise but his eyes find yours, his clouded with confusion and mouth slightly agape. You clench his datapad, throwing it somewhere across the floor.

“Make me forget” you said it in a way that you hoped was sexy, breathy, seductive. And you hear Kylo suck in a sharp breath, the muscles of his wide chest rippling with exertion as his hands automatically cling to your hips.

He knew the score. And so did you.

It’s a growl that’s ripped from his throat as your hips push down against him. Those stupid high waisted trousers need to come off, your bra needs to be on the floor and his hand needs to be wrapped around your neck.

His brow furrows. Then he lifts, his hands encompassing your hips and not letting you move. Bringing his lips to your neck, breath warm and slightly wet, his newly formed stubble rubbing along the skin. He holds them there, lightly pecking his lips along your throat.

Yes — control. You didn’t want it anymore.

“ _No”_

You must not have heard him right.

He does not usually deny you. Your eyes had closed at the feel of his lips, but you open them to look down upon him. His hair was feeding through his fingers, but his jaw was clenched, restraint evident in every lock of his muscles.

“I thought our relationship was built on sex” you mimic his words back to him and his eye flinches. “That’s what you told me”

“Words and meanings change” He says like he’s talking down to a child. His lips thinned to a singular line. He has fantastically beautiful cheekbones and you wish to smooth your thumb over them, when you do so, he moves his head.

The rejection stings deep.

You jump off his lap, grabbing your shoes in a rage. “When it works for you”

Kylo stands, his stature so large that he covers your exit. Fucking Goliath.

“You know what I mean” he says, voice measured and controlled in a way that riles you more.

“No” you snap, grabbing your jacket and wrapping it around your waist. “I don’t”

You try to move past, away from this, all of this, but he wraps a hand around your wrist, pulling you against his bare chest. Your hands can’t help but flatten against it, feeling the rise and fall of every breath. He was sweaty, a sheen from working out possibly, and it doesn’t help the fever within you.

“Do not think I do not want you. I believe I have proved the opposite over and over again” he murmurs into your head, his tone low. “But I know death. I know loss. It burns from the inside and it changes who you are. It eats away at who you believe you have become”

It comes from a place of _knowing._ But you can’t bring yourself to ask who he has lost.

“You went to his plaque; you placed his ashes...” His long forefinger taps your locket. “Here”

You lift your face up to watch the shadow of his jaw. “You had your knights follow me”

“Yes”

“Why?”

He frowns as if the question is particularly bizarre. “To keep you safe”

_What a saint,_ you think.

You push out of his arms, which, due to his strength, must have been done because of sheer surprise. “I can take care of myself”

“I’m well aware—”

“Are you?!” you snap, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m a not a child. You cannot treat me like a fucking pet! I’m a fucking adult—”

“Lieutenant” he warns.

“—I need to mourn without you looking over my shoulder! With this….” You run out of the right words; the First Order was even tainting your mind. “Controlling bloody place!”

“Lieutenant” His ebony eyes flick to the security camera in the corner of the room. “Careful”

“You are not my father! You are not my husband—”

“I am _yours!_ ” he shouts, his voice booming and sudden. It shocks him as well as you, for his body slumps with exhaustion. His words would ring within you if it wasn’t for the ringing in your ears. “You have me. Until the last star dies out and there is nothing left. I will not leave you.”

It was something he couldn’t promise. Something he couldn’t prove. Something you couldn’t rely on.

But it succumbs the animal in you.

He pulls you to the bed, the fight you thought you had dying within you, and laying you on the comfort of sheets.

You didn’t talk. Not when the sky opened and the rain fell. Not when your tears made your makeup run and wet the sheets in mourning. You didn’t speak at all, besides the shudders of wracking sobs as he pulled you into his chest, and the soft humming he made while he traced his hand over your hair. The sky crackled, lightening using the land as a match.

And you start to wonder when things will stop burning.


	20. It Got Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did not have wifi for the past month. Am I really really sorry? Absolutely! 
> 
> But you guys have made all of this worth all the hassle! I screenshot every comment. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

They gave you a week off. Nothing more. Nothing less.

They wouldn’t usually — no time for mourners in war — but your schedule was erased. You logged on to the system to see a blank screen: no shifts, no duties, no expectations. You _knew_ that it was only possible with managerial approval. And you could bet money on _who_ forced their hand.

The Finalizer ascends into orbit without you lifting a finger to help. Levi’s memorial in the dust and a broken droid in your hands.

JD-1 was skittish. He would get lost — more often than not — and be dropped at your door by an aggravated officer holding him by his wheel. He stuttered and sputtered through tasks, could barely keep a sentence together, and, even with fresh back-ups, half his map data is compromised. You had tried cleaning him but all the brushes and oil in the world wouldn’t help. 

He sits on your desk and beeps ‘ _sick_ ’ over and over.

“I don’t know how to fix you buddy” you finger the locket around your neck. “I’m not the one that did that”

He meeps a ‘ _feel bad’_. You pull him to your chest, scattering a box of tools in the process.

“Yeah. I feel bad too” you mumble into his paint.

And you did. Levi’s death didn’t disappear with all the distractions in the world. Officer Laylan had bought you a plant and a colouring book of ‘ _fantastical flowers from Naboo’_ which, while sweet, felt like a gift you’d get a child…or a dying grandma. Kalea sent a box of mint chocolates from her hospital bed – where she was staying until a burn on her leg subsided— and Alika gifted you a bottle of whiskey with a note that said ‘ _get over it’_.

Kylo did not send anything. But the peace he gave you was enough.

You sip a glass of whiskey now as you fiddle with JD-1’s circuits — something that will cause more harm than good — and eating chocolate camby berries. The sound of heavy boots come from outside your door and you just _know_ he’s hunted you down.

Your time of peace Is over.

“Commander” you say, as you slide the door open to Kylo’s waiting face.

He’s been wearing the helmet less and less but seeing the sharp line of his cheekbones and the soft pink of his lips still _stun_ you, especially when it appears at your door at eleven at in the afternoon.

Or it could be the alcohol. _It’s probably the alcohol._

Ushars there too, hovering beside him like an armoured bee.

“I didn’t order two aggressively large strippers” you gesture your glass at them and Kylo grimaces, eyeing your drink with a weary look.

Ushar slyly grins at you, his particularly sharp right tooth malicious in the fluorescent lighting. He remained one of Kylo’s guard dogs you did not fear, but his features were still that of a killer, sharp as a butcher’s knife and just as deadly.

He was severely injured by Hellford and, somehow, is still standing. _That_ is worthy of an ounce fear.

Ushar speaks first.

“A pleasure as always” he leerily murmurs.

You don’t imagine the way Ushar sway his body closer to yours. Despite your _unfortunate moment of aggression_ , Ushar does not seem to hold grudges. That, and he is known to respect strength even his enemies.

Though you suspect he _respects_ more than your strength.

You run your eyes from his calves to the light blue of his irises. He looks good for a man almost killed.

“Every time we meet it brings me _unlimited_ joy Ushar” you sass. You notice an extra piece to his uniform, a small box of metal covering his crotch. “The extra armours new”

“A precaution”

You wink. “I bet it is”

The Commander raises an eyebrow, his teeth grinding ever so slightly. The possessive bastard. Teasing him was invigorating after the time apart and you can’t help but push it further.

Fingers slipping over Ushars’ uniform you give it a little _tug,_ his body slumping into your space. “I heard you almost died Ushar, how’s the wound?”

Kylo snatches your wrist with a grip that burns — in a hot way — trapping it between his chest and yours, his buff, _unnaturally_ muscled chest. The devil sinks the brown of his eyes into yours and sense feel the warning; the silent scolding that only he could manage. Maybe you needed a good _telling off_ , it would be cathartic.

Plus, you are horny and sad. A girl needs a release.

You wanted a slice of first order beef. Sith salami. Padawan pork; you didn’t care. 

He herds you back into your room like cattle, barely giving you any time to wink at Ushar before the doors slither shut. JD-1 whirrs with excitement when Kylo shoves you into your chair, his unrelenting strength throwing you against the back wall.

‘ _ohhhh_ ’ mockingly worms out of your mouth.

“Stop flirting with my Knight” he seethes, removing that bizarre cape thing and throwing it on your bed.

You mouth his words back at him. He created this little _menagerie_. Sinking back into you chair, you look at your asteroid patterned pyjamas and the sauce on your collar that smells like depression and hope that Kylo’s senses are damaged. _Really damaged._

“Stop encouraging it” you say, twirling your chair in a circle. “I think you enjoy the game a little”

He sniffs the air and his lip curls. “Are you drunk?”

“I wish” you hold a finger up to keep Kylo silent while you take a sip and he gives you a ridiculous look (silencing him is not _commonly allowed)_. “No, I’m not drunk. Although, would you really blame me? My _brother_ is dead, my droid is malfunctioning, I’m missing a finger — which has still not been replaced — and I have a reputation as the girl who burnt down a base”

You take Kylo’s awkward silence as permission to continue.

“Alikas out to get me—” you start to add before a gloved hand smothers your mouth.

He holds his thumb on your lip as he pulls away. “I’m _begging_ you to be silent”

“Kylo Ren. Begging” your eyes tell a tale of unrelenting joy. “Two words I didn’t expect to hear together”

His mouth lifts slightly, enough to be a bit wonky. “You won’t hear them again”

JD-1 screams then, running his wheels until it starts to leave marks on your desk, the Commander looks him up and down.

He tils his head at the droid. “Scrap”

As if it was a greeting.

“Don’t call him that” you scoff.

JD-1 still seems riveted by Kylo, despite him watching to turn him into junk, he seems to have a childish affliction for him. Especially since…

_‘Since’,_ you think, _can’t even bring yourself to say the words._

You mouth ‘ _he’s not your dad’_ under Kylo’s arm but JD-1 gives you an excited thumbs up. If he’s playing matchmaker, he’s got an odd way of doing it. And a broken way of doing it since he’s wires start smocking like…well, like Canto.

Kylo bends to watch to smoke rise, then pulls him closer to the edge of desk by his wheel.

“He’s not working” you tapped your droids head. “He was fine a few days ago, now he…can barely function”

“Something is stuck” he pushes JD-1’s circuit board around and all you see is shapes, wires and an old candy wrapper. “A part dislodged during the fire or a piece of shrapnel”

You could have figured that out.

“You’re good with droids?”

“I grew up with them” he says. He never talks about his past and you never ask, his eyes always shut down as the shutters unravel and you can’t see past them. Sometimes you forget you know nothing about him.

Kylo swipes some oil off the side. “You should take him to your puppy. I’m sure he’ll fix it for you”

You’re ninety-three percent sure you didn’t have a dog. Though, if you did, it would be far more obedient than Kylo. And more loving.

“My puppy?” you reply.

“Shaggy hair” he says, and your blank stare must be enough for him to continue. “Unnaturally joyful” you shake your head. “Wears florals?” he says.

“Did you just say ‘ _florals’?_ ”

“Jeninne” he says, as though it answers everything. The ‘ _black-on-black’_ assemble he always wears is rather stylish, perhaps he has a level of fashionista he wants to embrace. The Jedi were always known to be _suave._ Jeninne would be delighted if the first order starts heading towards pastels rather than ‘ _graveyard-rotten potato-AT-AT’_ grey (Jeninne’s words, of course)

You knew who he meant of course. Only one officer begged at your heels like pet.

“Officer Laylan is perfectly…” You can’t find the word that explains his half-puppy, half-baby persona. “…average”

He gets _that_ look on his face. The one of abstract jealousy that makes it seem like he’s sucked on a lemon. He may not show a lot of sentiment, but possession is embedded in his soul.

You wrap a wire around your finger, the delight slipping through your body and on to your tongue. “Jealousy is _rife_ with you today”

“We have a contract. I’m ensuring you honour it” he mumbles. “That’s not what I came here for”

He had ignored you this entire week after your failed seduction attempt. He can’t blame you for getting a bit _rowdy_. The way he held you in the archive room still haunts your dreams; to the point you awake in a sweat and a throbbing sensation all over your body.

It was cruel at this point.

His face is sullen, the shadows under his eyes pronounced and his hair is slightly straggly. You chose to ignore the bit of dirt along his neck, as rugged as it makes him look. You know he’s not here for sex. There were only a few things people were hunting you down for: to make a mockery of you, to pity you like a child, or to see If Levi’s will had been executed and whether they were a beneficiary.

There is one more reason — the one Alika warned you about.

“Let me guess — Snoke wants to see me” you guess, swinging in your wheelie chair. “And he sent his lacky”

His eyes sharpen at the word ‘lacky’ but there’s a hint of humour under there (well, you hope there is, or you’re _fucked_ ) He stops your chair with his boot.

“Bitterness is not a good look on you” he grips your chin to lift your head, pulling it harshly against the head rest.

Kylo is charming, in a demeaning way. He makes every compliment an insult. A poet of malice, maliciousness and asshole–ry, which was lucky enough to be put in a pretty package. You couldn’t tell if he meant you were ugly when bitter, or too pretty to be bitter.

You swallow harshly and the bile burns your throat. “Will he kill me?”

“ _No_ ” he says it sternly, the pads of his finger pressing into your cheeks. “You are my apprentice; you are under my tuition”

You held yourself back from mentioning that _no_ teaching was happening. The week had been weak – no pun intended – you had been drowning in your own sorrow with no one to fish you out, Kylo included. Your ‘apprenticeship’ was training in depression 101, how to cry proficiently and advanced emotional eating, all of which you got full marks.

Now he comes to sign your death warrant. Not a good a start to your progressive education.

Maybe Kylo was in your mind, maybe he could feel your mental dissonance, but he lowers himself, until his breath could warm your lips and the tip of his nose touches yours. He has a sharpness in his eyes that you can’t place in the list of Kylo’s base emotions.

His next words are deep and whispered onto your mouth.

“He has no authority to take you from _me_ ”

He does. He will.

You’re starting to think you’re more a cynic than Kylo, and isn’t that a feat?

He watches you dress, your privacy irrelevant after so long of normalised nudity with each other. Then he guides you out the door, leaving your droid to suffer alone.

Ushar has a purpose here now, your escort in case you try to give Kylo the slip. He steps behind you boxing you in between him and Kylo. The Commander, on the other hand, guides your arm along in hold, as if you may run If given a slither of space between the two of you (you would. You absolutely would).

You can’t imagine what the other Officers see. Some look pleased at your walk of shame, delighted that you were being taken for judgement. Others prefer to pretend you don’t exist. Alika stands along the corridor, dressed in another white suit. She holds your stare as you walk and, despite what you expect, she does not look best pleased. In fact, she looks _enraged_.

She is the last face you see before Kylo puts you in the elevator.

Ushar was left behind. With the feeling of Kylo’s hand touching yours, you assume that was on purpose.

The numbers move achingly slow. It feels like you could ascend one level and it would take hours.

“He is your master” you say, as the numbers dip. It had been five minutes since the last words you said to each other, but this conversation is not over.

If Kylo noticed the gap between the conversation he didn’t acknowledge it. It was best for the both of you that you keep your words out of ears of _others_. Growing up here has taught you that you can trust none, except those that have as much to lose as you.

His reply is resound in bitterness, “I serve no master”

Who pays his paycheck then? Not you, not Hux, not any of the generals – oh, wait – Snoke does. This man must be delusional if he thinks he’s not _owned_. It was an onerous of war to be summons pawn; thrown away as and when needed. You like your job — you do!– but you’re not naïve about your place.

Kylo’s voice interrupts your introspection.

“Speak only the truth. He will know if you do not” he says.

Sweat slithers down the rough skin of his jaw and you feel his _truth._ That he was nervous, that Snoke scared him and that he worried for _you,_ which didn’t put you in high spirits. The fact that he cares, even the tiniest bit, is still a shock to the system.

“I will be there” he rubs the back of your hand. “You are my responsibility after all”

Despite the drama of walking to your death, it makes you chuckle. “It must be difficult…taking responsibility for me”

“Not difficult” he says, rubbing his finger over the back of yours. _“Frustrating_ ”

Light filtered through the gaps in metal, splitting him between light and shadow, his expression a forced neutrality. He can play a Commander all he wants but there is fear there.

“Don’t be afraid” is what he says.

“With all due respect Commander, I am made of eighty percent anxiety and twenty percent anger”

“Twenty percent _sarcasm_ ” he corrects, and while you don’t look at him, you can tell he found himself entertaining.

Perhaps he knows you better than you do.

You don’t exchange words on the last number. He puts his mask on and you put on yours: neither physical, both mental. Hellford should have killed you and you survived. Snoke is just another thing you will survive.

That’s what you’re good at.

No one saw Snoke. He was a voice on a comm or a higher up’s problem — now you understand _why_.

He’s very… _pruned._

Like a sweet got caught in a food processor and then stretched on a hot plate. He reaches his legs out from his _‘throne’_ , one hand rubbing along his chin and his left eye looking at you far more intently than the other.

Every instinct in you screamed ‘ _run’_ but your feet took you forward. The walk was long, a stretch of metal reaching out in front of you, and Snoke seems to sink back into his seat with every second of your discomfort. Blatant sadism is written all over his face – and not the type you enjoy. He dresses in robes of black, fixtures of expensive material and topped off by the sly grin on his face.

The Elite Praetorian Guard hold themselves like armoured chess pieces, protecting their king in a circle of eerily obedient pawns. All of which eye you with partial interest, roll their shoulders back, and relax when they deem you an unworthy opponent.

He waits for you to bow, one leg bent at his feet, before he bothers to address you.

“You’re name now comes with a reputation, _Lieutenant_ ” he says it such disregard it makes your heckles rise. “Do you know what that reputation might entail?”

Murderer. Arsonist. Slut. Take your pick.

You keep your eyes downcast. “I’m sure it’s not good, Sir”

“Honesty. What an interesting quality for someone who has lied so blatantly” he taps his fingers on the metal, drumming a slow beat that sings with your internal screaming. He’s limbs are spindly, joints unnaturally long and arachnid-ish. He looks as though he does not fit in his skin, and you’re itching to get out of yours.

“I’m not sure—”

“ _Do not try and fool me child_ ” he doesn’t shout, he does not need to. His anger carries in his tone, plagued with and an abyss that makes your throat clam shut. “I see your past. You kept crucial details about a prisoner to yourself, you interrogated him without just authority, you incinerate a base stronghold in the midst of a political event and manage to survive….”

He looks you up and down, a long-drawn humming emanating from the space where his heart would be, if he had one.

He sneers. “…with nothing but a _scratch_ ”

You lost a finger. Does no one care about that?

He must hear that thought because his eyes wander to your damaged hand, his lip pulling over his top teeth.

Snoke may look at you, but he does not see you. That was clear enough. He saw a cog in a machine you could _feel_ it. If your force was a river, and Kylo’s was a wall, his was a plaque; you were just a body to be infected and killed at his whim.

Snoke laughs, a sound that chills your heart. “And despite your… _dim-witted_ demeanour you managed to seduce my Apprentice”

“Sir, I—”

“Do you deny it?” He places on arm under his chin.

_Do not lie. He will know._

“No”

Kylo stiffens to the left of you, a flinch of his hand enough to show you something was wrong.

Snoke sighs. “I suspected so. I have already had to punish Kylo for such insolence”

You turn your head at Kylo, who has one hand wrapped around his side. The side still scared from your nursing. 

The night in Kylo’s quarters, when you sewed him up with beginner’s technique and showered of his blood. The night he told you were art, the night he let you have control, the night you felt his skin slither shut — it was all orchestrated by him.

His _own_ master cut him like meat. Left him for dead, for what? For punishment? For satisfaction? For fun? He hurt him for no just reason besides he _wanted to._

You thought you knew monsters, you had met Hellford, but no. This was a true monster.

You hold down your anger, bury it deep within you and turn your head to the floor. But you feel it, feel Snoke’s power touch your face like a caress and run down your neck. It steals your breath until they are just shudders. He was taking the air from your lungs, but slowly, drawing it out.

“Now I wonder, why should I keep you alive?” he speaks to himself rather than you.

You answer anyway.

“I have served the First Order well–“

“I asked for reasons why you should stay alive” he spits, the dribble physically slips along his mouth. “Not petty squabble”

“Sorry, I—”

“She is strong with the force”

It was Kylo who spoke for you, now standing beside your bent form, head lifted to see him.

Snoke ‘ _hmmms_ ’ but doesn’t seem particularly shocked, rather he seems satisfied. He seems _expecting._ And that makes you shiver.

He runs his pin thin nail along his bottom lip, and you see the lift of his smile. “Is that so?” 

Kylo’s eyes flicker to you and you hope he sees the desperation on your face. The force crawls at your skin, ripping at your veins and trying to bring you into darkness. Lightly, you feel It reach for him and the answering call of his power: steady and controlled.

The Commander clears his throat. “Untrained, but mouldable. With time—"

“She is also a _temptation_ ” Snoke interrupts. He’s scratching his nail along the metal creating the sound of an un-oiled engine.

Kylo takes one step forward, covering you slightly. “Not to me. I understand the First Orders vision and I will ensure its creation”

“Yes. A new Vader and his —” he can’t find the word for a while, rolling his tongue over his teeth. When he finds it, it’s laced with honest revulsion. “— _limpet”_

“Give me time. And you will see what I can create” Kylo’s voice sounds, a commanding tenor that brings even the guards to heel.

“Time is a luxury we do not possess” Snoke looks to you, then to a Kylo. “If you see power within in her, then I shall let you train her. But, as you know, I do not accept failures. When she comes to me again, I expect a weapon. Am I clear?”

Kylo need not answer. Instead he hauls you up by the back of your uniform, lifting you like a puppet on a string. He does not need to tell you to follow, you go willingly towards to exit, with gasping breaths and a burning throat.

“L _ieutenant_ ” Snoke’s voice echoes the gangway, stopping your feet in place. He could control you like a ball on a string, a teether of orce keeping you locked to the floor. His words are nothing less than a warning.

“Do not play with fire _again_ ”

You do not stop again.

There’s no ‘ _thanks for your time_ ’ or discussion about your wages, rather, Kylo storms ahead, your legs unable keep up with his strides as you scurry behind. Fleeing. That’s what you were doing. Scattering like scolded dogs — only slightly buzzed with the energy of not being _murdered_.

He pushes you back into the elevator with the same force as before.

You rock on your feet watching the numbers move.

Does this elevator get slower every time you’re in it?

You should discuss what you just went through, what happened, but instead you can only think of one thing.

You clear your throat.

“This Apprentice thing…you’re _really_ , _completely_ serious about it?” you say, and Kylo seems shocked you asked, peeping down at you with hooded eyes. “There was a part of me that thought—“

“That I was using it to get you alone?”

That’s what you thought once or twice; that you had become his easy-access whore.

“Why would I do that?” He turns to you, making your body face him in return. “You always _come_ when I call. You are constantly wanting…aren’t you, _sweet one_?”

That name was new. This passion was new.

You were both running on adrenaline and near death experiences.

“You rejected me a week ago” you whine, and it was a _whine._ You sounded like a teenage girls who got stood-up at a dance.

He steps closer, his brow puckered. “I did and you know why”

Because fresh mourning and sex don’t mix; the cocktail of sadness and orgasm is isn’t something you love to taste test (although, the anti-depressant ability of an orgasm should not be ignored). Plus, your tawdry attempt at seduction was rubbing snot into his chest and using his sheets as a tissue.

You hold each other’s stare, your back cold against the elevator wall and the lights flashing in-between the rivets. You have just been interrogated by a raisin, almost chocked on the floor and survived by the skin of your teeth and he had never looked so attractive to you.

The lights hit every line, ever sharp dent in his cheekbone, ever line in his forehead and the simmering burning in his eyes.

It only takes one step for him to cover you, to slip his hands around your waist and suck all the oxygen from the space. You should get checked for asthma because you physically can’t _breathe._ His palms are warm and did you mention his fingers are _huge?_ (you probably mentioned it a few times)

You swallow, eyeing his tongue rubbing along his lip. “Are we about to kiss right now?”

“ _Stop talking_ ” he groans.

Kylo always takes what he wants with aggression; your bottom lip with his, your waist with his hands, your eyes in his gaze. His lips are rough and weather worn, dragging gratingly against yours as if he could take your skin with him. It was a kiss born from aggression and raised in passion.

It was a demonstration of control. A desperate need to have control over _something_ and it has to be you, because, _fuck_ , what else was left?

When it comes to kissing, you give as good as you get. You sink your nails into his hair until you can scrap his scalp, bite at the plush of his bottom lip and suck on the bruise. The leather of his gloves rub over your back under your shirt, and you remember how much you missed his touch.

He knew that, of course, he always did. His lips forming that smug grin against yours. Your hips shift slightly, just enough make him hiss sharply into your mouth, flinging your head into the metal platters. It hurt, but so did everything.

Chaos is what you both caused. And you never realised how much you needed it.

The familiar sting where his lips met your skin makes you sigh, each mark a memory. Life was short, you had to make a lot of them and quick. And Kylo…Kylo was quick. Ripping your shirt to the side and running along the skin of your chest.

He sinks his teeth there, needling until the skin turns red and bruise begins to pucker. Your making sounds you don’t remember making before, deep, guttural moaning; It’s part agony, part lust and part desperation. You forget where you are. You’re back on your little ship where he first held you against the wall, where he first owned you, where everything was _yours._

There is one problem with forgetting where you are—

The numbers beep, the doors slide open and the ragged curls of officer Laylan’s head stares back at you. He gives you that fish look — slack mouth, just opening and closing constantly. Which makes sense, considering Kylo has his hands on your ass.

“Laylan” you nod, slightly breathless and rattled.

“Ma’am. Commander” he nods back, his eyes straying to Kylo’s disappearing fingers. “I’ll get the next one”

Yeah, you would fucking hope so. He starts hitting the buttons outside the elevator and the doors stay latched open. Your training must be mediocre if, after two months, Laylan finds a lift difficult to operate. How were you going to get him past his engineering course?

“The top one” you mumble while Laylan slams each button.

Kylo’s left hand slips down the back of your trousers and you give Laylan a panicked look. Was he sweating? He looks like he’s sweating.

“The top one, Laylan” you grit. His hands are clammy and slipping on the buttons and Kylo murmurs something like ‘ _fuck’_ against your neck. With your ass in his hands, your legs around his waist, and your fingers in his scalp, you looked like an erotic human pretzel.

You nod at Laylan, eyes wide. “The one that looks like a crab”

“Oh, right. Yes. That makes sense.” He stutters.

Kylo frowns, there’s a flicker of aggravation in the force, one that makes the room ten degrees higher and causes Laylan to sweat from his brow. Whatever energy Kylo is throwing his way causes Laylan to hit the right button, the doors _whooshing_ closed on his anxious face. and you throw your hands out like a pair of weighted scales.

You shrug at Kylo’s despondent glare. “He’s learning, I swear.”

This time, Kylo slaps his hand onto the stop button, the lights go red and he licks the seam of your lips. Hands curl over your ass, pulling you in to his crotch, tented, hard and borderline aggressive.

“Spread your legs” he murmurs before latching onto the skin of your neck. You shuffle as much as his grip allows, opening your legs to shoulder length.

“Wider” he murmurs, and you follow the command. Giving him access to your body.

He pulls at the buttons of your slacks, one ripping off and tinkering of the back wall.

Your voice sounds lost and breathy. “I don’t think we’re allowed to do this”

You definitely are not allowed to do this.

Without tact, discretion, or patience, he slips his gloved hand into your underwear. Searching for your clit as though it was a bounty. He took to it with speed, pushing through your folds and soaking the material of your gloves as you had done before.

Your response to Kylo’s wandering hands is nothing less than a whimper. The poster boy for the first order seems to be slipping into rebellious territory of your panties.

“Have you missed me?” his grin is slimy, and he must hear how much you’ve missed him, how _soaked_ you become form the pads of his fingers, and the smooth of his lips along your pulse. He slips a finger along your slick hole, and, despite the warning lights blaring through the elevator, your hips jolt to follow his move.

His teeth brush over your skin, the tone of his voice stilted with lust. “You have”

There is never shame in his voice. Just an infuriating level of cockiness that makes you want to hit him and fuck him at the same time. So insufferably smug, that, in revenge, you sink your teeth into the flesh of his neck, hard enough to break the skin and taste his blood on your tongue.

You feel the intake of breath and the ravage speed of his hands stutter.

To his credit, he doesn’t kill you. Rather he pushes your head against the wall until he can mush his mouth on yours, sucking his blood form your tongue like a horny vampire; The blood of a conquest won.

He removes his hand to let the glove teeter along your lips.

“Take it off” he whispers.

Hands slipping over his lower stomach, you reach for his hand, but the force slams them against the wall. You could fight it now, try and push back with all you have, but you don’t _want_ to. He holds you up with one hand, an impressive fit of strength and an opportunity to show off. He taps your lip again.

His breath brushes your cheek. “Not like that”

He presses it against your teeth and you understand. You lock your eyes on his, fanning your lashes against your cheek as you nip the fabric with your teeth. Pulling, the bare white of his skin is exposed, marled with new bruises and scarring.

The slap of the glove hitting the wall makes _everything flutter._ And this time, when Kylo’s hand finds its way back to your clit, it’s course with damaged skin.

“That’s it” his voice caresses your skin in a kiss. “You like this, don’t do? The idea that you could get caught makes the force within you _sing”_

His voice is a siren song. “I can _feel_ it”

Baring your teeth, feisty and vicious, has no effect on Kylo. He finds it frighteningly satisfying, for he flicks through the wet slick of your body with vigour, grinning in a way only he can.

You liked to pretend that this was a battle between you, more personal than lightsabres, but just as _hot._ Each touch on your body a scolding burn that leaves a mark and blisters bare skin. Every rub of his mouth on yours is hot, wide and feels like it could swallow you whole — if he bites any more your skin, then he might — you’re slobbering, making a mess of the stubble on his chin. Your hips try to roll against his, but he slips a hand under your right thigh, pushing it over his elbow and straining the seam of your half undone trousers.

His moves are sloppy, not as practiced as usual, not that it matters. His fingers still know how to rub your, how to make you ache and squirm, how to mumble ‘ _please’_ into his neck when he holds back.

You thought this was something you wanted.

Evidentially, it’s what you _needed_. Your voice matches the sound of the tractor beacons, ricocheting of the walls in elevator and drowning the noise of your ass mashing the buttons. This is what you need to be taught; how to mimic the feel of his hands so you would not beg for him, how to hit each button with precision, how to make it feel like the whole world could disappear in a moment and you wouldn’t care.

“You were such an obedient thing. A ‘ _little bird_ ’. Now look a you—” he settles your head back into his shoulder, the plump flesh of your neck exposed to his wanting mouth and turns your head to reflective wall.

The image was distorted, blurred and smudged in glass that hadn’t been cleaned for days, but you see it. Your shoulders stand tall, your skin looked softer, and, despite your depression and recent alcohol abuse, you looked stronger. Underneath it, however, you see the melancholy.

The seeds of something else was within you and it was not pure.

It was dark, twisted and _feral._

“— A falcon” is the words he whispers in your air. It sounds like damnation and tastes like heaven.

He brings you to the edge inside an elevator, your chest leaning on the wall and the touch of his glove in your mouth. In that moment — the steel cold on your skin — you still feel the need to cry. It could be the scent of death on you, or the fact that your life is held in the hands of everyone but yourself, but you sink your teeth into your lip and you cry. 

You were no falcon. You were a lost little girl:

Kylo didn’t see your tears. The camera, however – the one you noticed too late – saw _everything_.


	21. I Don't Know What You Heard About Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bitch for updating so late. But I was on night shifts (can't use the internet where I work). If it makes up for it, this chapter is over 7000 words long! 
> 
> I love you guys and have missed you all.
> 
> (warning for attempted sexual assault and brief mention of childhood trauma)

Officer Laylan has two moods: one – hyperactive, bubbling mess, two – ball of anxiety with well styled hair.

He was the second one today.

Not being in your office for a week left him to his own devices, which had turned him into a lost puppy, digging for bones in your desk drawers. Scatterings of blue puff wrappers, crumbs and scribblings of a confounded mind litter your desk, the floor and the gaps in the chairs cushion. You tip the chair over to get it out because you’re not _disgusting._

This is why Levi was the only man allowed in your office without supervision.

Men are _gross_.

Gagging, you shuffle through the mess until you find Laylan head down on the desk. Half a post-it-note stuck to his nose and snoring pieces of dust into his mouth. His hair is tussled —a few pieces fallen into a half-full cup of caf— black ink smudged all over his cheek and half a toffee sticking to his lip.

JD-1 wriggles in your arms, impatient from not being allowed his daily roam through the Finalizer. You sit him on the desk, letting him tip Laylan’s caf onto the floor and leave tire marks on an expense form.

His wires glitch and he slaps Laylan round the back of the head; not the way you would have woken him up, but it’s effective.

Laylan rolls his head, a soft ‘ _oh no’_ slipping from his mouth and bursting forward in a puff of cheese dust.

“ _’Oh no’_ is exactly right” you mock, balancing your hip on the only clean section of his desk.

“Sorry. I panicked when you weren’t here” he yawns, shuffling the notes into some semblance of order. It looked like it followed your system: red post-it notes for ‘ _what we don’t know’._ “I was looking for the information pamphlet on fixing russtialian bolts on catarnier panelling”

You pull the instruction manual out from your desk. It’s half stuff to another one by a piece of gum. He cheekily murmurs thanks into his palm, hiding a stifled yawn.

You spread open the blue puff packet until he can see the info on the back.

“You know these are for Wookies right?”

He rubs the dust from his eyes, squinting at each word. “Wookies have great taste”

You point your hands at everything. “Get this cleaned up”

“Yes Ma’am”

Your chair still feels the same and no one had moved your porg mug or your stash of caf. Brushing the dust of your screens and organising your work; it felt like home and like a foreign country. It was both familiar and wrong. Being here, being along – none of it felt _right._ A light flashes on your datapad, a message unread sits in your inbox.

_Lieutenant,_

_Training starts at 09:00_

_Meet me in room 485_

_Any tardiness will require punishment_

_Ren._

_So soon_ , you think, _war waits for no one._

“So, the _rumour_ is true?” Laylan says in awe.

You slam the computer shut. “Since when do we read peoples emails?”

“But it’s true? You have, like, force powers and shit? Could you bend this pen?” he waves a pink biro in your face and you have a half a mind to slap it out of his grip.

“I don’t think—”

He hops between his feet, the toffee on his cheek bouncing with each step. “Or throw stuff against the walls?”

“Laylan” you caution. He halts, the bounce in his curls resting on his shoulders. You stand to look down upon him. “Where did this rumour come from? Nothing has been announced yet”

You had hoped it wouldn’t be announced. Too much attention has already been aimed your way.

The trainee shrugs. “People talk”

“ _Laylan_ ” It was a warning.

“The Mandalay Twins” he rushes, rubbing the scar on his nose.

You hoped Laylan never got tortured, he’d spill secrets quicker than Kylo spills blood.

“Alika” you confirm to yourself.

“That girl…” you click your tongue once and Levi’s face falls. “Don’t panic. I won’t tell her you told me. Here–“you put JD-1 in his lap, letting Laylan baby him “–I need you to fix him, you trained with Levi right?”

Laylan looks up at wit his puppy face. “A few days–“

“Still means you’re better than me” you reply.

Well, you _hope_ he was. You can’t trust anyone else here.

You check your watch. It’s five minutes before you need to meet Kylo.

“Fix” you order. “Consider it payment for gossiping behind my back”

He flushes red.

You point at your technical butter ball. “Stay here and be good”

JD-1 gives you a thumbs up. Or he starts too, before his wires glitch and he slaps Laylan on the cheek.

Perhaps ‘ _being good_ ’ is an unrealistic expectation.

* * *

‘ _Training room’_ apparently meant ‘ _staircase to hell’._

Room four-eight-five is restricted access, and now you know it’s because it was nothing but a sea of balconies. The floors – if you could call them that – reminded you of those wild mushrooms that grow out of trees, each silver plain connected by a ladder and nothing else. A cornucopia of grey surfaces. They wormed their way up the metal, each looking down at a cliff-like drop with no discernible end.

Besides the fans on the walls, all you saw was a dark swarm of darkness, festering on the tile as flies on fruit.

No feel of the wind, no bitter coldness, just, _grey_.

You click your tongue just to hear the sound echo.

“What’s down there? More First Order secrets?” you say, pivoting on the edge, your foot holds you on the platform by mere inches and you have a sudden urge to jump. A hand wraps around your shirt neck and hauls your away from the edge.

“Word of advice” Kylo grits, moving you away from the edge. “Don’t fall”

You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing at the dry skin there. “I was just looking”

“ _Don’t_ ” is his reply.

A man of few words.

He unravels his overcoat, exposing the armless tank underneath. He’s gained muscle. You can tell by the size of his biceps – as rom-com-esque as it may sound. He throws it to the ground and nods towards your military jacket. In a less sexy way, you unravel your coat and pile it on top of his, the black cotton of your top hiding your raspy breathing.

Either: Kylo still makes you lose your breath or you never recovered from the smoke inhalation.

Flicking the lock on his belt, he unhooks both of his sabres. Twin red blades who you knew all to well. He spins one, gives it an indescribable look, then throws it at you. Your hands slip, and you think, just for a second, that you may have a sabre through the hand if you’re not careful. And you’ve had enough of losing limbs.

It soon falls into your _finger-full_ hand.

You wave it around, unnaturally miffed. “Really? Don’t trust me with my own?

“You must make your own”

Of course, you did, nothing is easy in this galaxy.

“Guess it’s not the time to tell you I sucked at engineering 101?” you say, the memory of soldering your bracelets together swirling in your head.

“It’s not the pieces that matter. Your force binds it together” he speaks like a master with an urge to brag about his own knowledge. “And a crystal formed on the plains of Ilum”

A cold, desolate, ice planet. You couldn’t think of anything worse than freezing your nipples off for a rock.

You pout. “Ilum? That’s lightyears away. Can I buy one?”

“No” he says, throwing his jacket to the side of the podium. “You must find it for yourself. It chooses you”

The absolute boredom within you must shine through as Kylo’s eye twitch with unrestrained annoyance. You’d think he would know your personality by now and realise that finding lazy solutions to big problems was part of your charm.

“The Jedi have done it for years” he states, as though that’s persuasive in anyway. Surely, he can’t forget that he killed the Jedi, so maybe their ‘ _magically chosen rocks_ ’ aren’t the way forward?

“I’m no Jedi” you say. A constant repetition in your mind.

“No. You’re not”

He stares, letting the lead weight of his eyes burrow into your soul and you think this is going to turn into another debate about what you are, who you are and what you want. A favourite of Kylo’s arguments.

He turns his head instead, watching the muscles flex in your arms. “Warm up”

“I thought we would work up to sabres?” you question, spinning the sabre left and right and letting it fall through your hand.

“The Jedi would…” he says flinching, a personal scold. “…But you’re not a Jedi, so we’re going to do this my way”

You swing the sabre: up, down, left right. It doesn’t take long for you to know it’s not working.

The sabre is too big. It can barely fit in your palm, rigged with bent lines and cold to the touch. It was not meant for you to hold. It rejected your signature as a mirror bends light. You didn’t know whether a sabre could have memory but this one remembered you, it remembered Canto, the swell of Hellford’s blood and the flames of an oil lit floor.

It didn’t _fit_ you.

It was too big. Too vengeful. Too _used._

Your face must state your rejection, for the Commander spins its other half in his hand, letting its light radiate warmth into the room.

“It is temporary” he keeps his voice low, eyes on your tight grip on his sabre. “They were not made for your hands”

“I can tell. Why is it red?” you question, rubbing your thumb along the hilt.

“Originally, the Sith had no access to Ilum as it was under Jedi control. They created synthetics, cloned versions of what _should_ have been” he alights his sabre, watching with a sort of sad curiosity.

“They were built in furnaces and infused with a Siths’ power—” you see the red in his eyes as he turns to you. “—they couldn’t handle it”

He opens the compartment, exposing the primary crystal within. It was a burgundy red but it’s cracks reveal a bleeding heart. Little crevices of light burn through the rivets of stone. It may have been another colour once – if the slight blue tinge means anything – you move closer to get a better look and Kylo slaps the hilt shut.

“Now, they _bleed”_

You look at the twin sabre in your hand. “Isn’t that unstable?”

“Not if you have the strength to control it–”

“Or the narcissism to believe you can” you interrupt.

The closest thing to a smile crawls onto Kylo’s’ face.

He can’t contain the smirk when he sees the tip of your lips. “ _Perhaps_ ”

He circles you with the calm nature of a buzzard waiting for it’s prey to die. Gripping your arms at the wrist, he pulls you against his chest.

He shakes your wrist. “Get a good grip”

“Oh you bet I will”

“Lighter” he slips his pinkie finger in between the palm of your hand, loosening it by millimetres. “It needs to be able to move”

“Now you’re just asking for the sex jokes”

Teacher Kylo is very _serious_. He doesn’t smile, rather, he taps your hands and walks the other edge of the platform, back flattened against the wall. It leaves you on the edge of the platform, back to a tunnel of abyss.

He nods your approval at your hands. “That will do”

He whips around and see him move his lightsabre in a series of moves you can’t name. Then he blades off, turning to side to make himself a small target and you know where this is going.

“Woah” you hold up your spare hand. “We’re just going to…fight?”

“I’ll teach you the forms once I know what I’m working with. You might have a style you’re more suited for” he jumps once, then twice, shaking out the tensions in his arms.

Then, he swings.

He has a habit of swinging down and you bring your sabre up to counter it. But he’s bigger, wider, stronger and he knocks you sabre away like brushing sand from his jacket. This time, he swings from the side causing you to throw your weight onto one foot to counter it. All you get is a burnt shirt and sweaty hands.

You keep blocking and blocking, desperately avoiding the edge of the platform.

You spy his scar under his shirt.

“Were you ever going to tell me that it was Snoke that hurt you that day?” you struggle to catch your breath, sucking them in harshly as the sweat soaks your forehead.

“You didn’t need to know” He replies pushing against his sabre against yours until the heat licks your face.

“I know now”

In a moment of unnatural bravery, you spit in his eye. He flinches, growling through set teeth. His sabres moves slightly to the left and you duck underneath it, throwing you self to the ground in an attempt of a roll. You get standing, arms holding the sabre in front of you, when he turns, your spit wiped on the bottom of his top.

He shakes his shoulders.

You had your warm-up. This was his.

“He didn’t not tell you it was that night…” he spins the sabre in his left, walking in a circle to make you follow him. “…and yet, you knew”

“That’s not–“he swipes his arm down in a left arch and you narrowly avoid the blade, jumping centimetres to the left. “– the point I’m making. It’s abuse– “

His jaw clenches minutely and then he _moves._ He hits heavy, knocking you back with each aching blow. Your arms hurt just from the strength of holding the sabre. Your shoes slip further and further back until you almost touch the wall.

You cross blades.

He’s sweating, not from exertion but the heat, when his mouth forms the words. “Force empathy”

“What?” you pant.

He swings on left foot, pushing his shoulder into yours and you slip, barely holding your balance with one outstretched arm. Your fight training didn’t equate to this. You couldn’t move as smoothly, you didn’t know when to parry and when to strike, you couldn’t see an opening.

You swing for his legs and he jumps over the burning blade.

The Commander gives you one warning look before he advances.

“You could never read my mind. You don’t have the type of strength” he groans bringing his arm down towards you in a beam of light. You block it but your arm is thrown back by his strength. “Your force centres of feelings, motivations and the impressions you gauge of others”

He was holding, waiting, allowing you to make the next move. You do. You slam your heel into his foot, aiming for the tip of his toes. You hit hard and he hisses. He doesn’t let go despite your dirty play. In fact, he seems to reveal in it, his face brightened with challenge.

This time, you skip back, hoping onto your left foot and swing again. Noisy and careless the sabres collide, sparks burning the space between you and humming with an energy that should not be contained. Each moves he makes is calculated. A game of sabacc played by your bodies.

He is a well-versed player with every move a form from fighting text, whereas _you_ were _brash_. Each hit you made was a useless attempt brushed away by the bat of his hand. You stepped one way, he stepped the other. You went for his hand, he would knock it to the side and go for your neck.

He was on the defensive, holding back all that he could really do.

“You’re toying with me” you say on a winded breath, sabres crossed in a kiss.

He hums, agreeing. “I’m waiting”

“For?”

The light flicks his eyelashes but all you see is an inferno. “The fire I saw in Canto”

“You mean the one I set?”

That’s burned out by now.

Kylo rolls his eyes and pushes against his sabre, face to face with you next to a burning cross.

“The one _within_ you” he growls, his lip pulled slightly back to expose the grit of his teeth. His eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes brightened by exercise and the sabre. It was a pretty picture for a weekday. He pushes you harder and your thighs ache to stay still. “The one that fought me on Bothawui, the one who prowled the ship, the one that wanted to fight”

He pushes again and this time your body can’t hold his weight. You see the edge of the platform in your peripheral. He’ll send you over edge.

“The one that doesn’t hold back”

Your arm muscles seem to weaken at the joint and they sag long enough for him to push you _hard_. “I’m not _holding_ back”

The Commander brings his mouth to the burning cross.

“ _Liar_ ”

He takes one large step. It takes your back heel over the edge. You don’t look over your shoulder, if you did, you would see nothing but darkness.

“Show me the anger you have” he says, using the force to call for yours. “Show me the girl who killed”

His power sinks into your mind, trying to pull your rage forth in blistering pain. Your feet rock, tipping on the edge as head seems to split in half.

“Show me the girl who ran into a burning building” he grits.

The sabre burns the collar of your shirt.

“Show me the girl who watched _her friend die_ ”

At that, you chuck the sabre to the side, forcing him to hover his by your neck. He holds you, teetering on the edge between his hands and death, his other sabre spinning on the floor. Maybe he saw it as you giving up. You saw it as making a stand. 

“ _You do not get to use his death to weaponize me_ ” you spit, holding your lip on the edge of the blade.

He could deem you useless and throw you to the depths. He could cut your neck if it pleased him. Instead, he switches the sabre off, hauling you back to the platform by your top. As soon as your feet feel secure, you push his hand from your shirt.

You were done with training today. You were done with Kylo today.

“I had Jeninne make you robes” he calls as you through your jacket over your shoulder, you already feel it clinging to the sweat of your back. “I expect you to wear them when we train”

The door opens, the air brushing your heated skin.

You don’t look back when you speak.

“Fuck you”

* * *

You know those teen movies where they say the cafeteria is a ‘ _social jungle’_ , hub of cliques and creator of social circles? Yeah, well, sometimes they’re not wrong. That’s why you hated it. The staring, the smell of jealousy, the enforced joy, it fucked with your head. Plus, having minimal friends means your choices of seating are limited.

But Kylo made a deal with you: two hours a day training with him and the rest is spent as Lieutenant. Meaning cafeteria dinners are still enforced.

And you knew your first day back would entice _feelings_. Hatred, mainly. The whole ‘ _officer burns down Canto_ ’ thing has yet to be forgotten.

Walking in felt like entering heaven after a short stint in hell: pretty fucking weird.

The tables were less filled, the loss of officers prevalent in the gaps on the tables and the plates that haven’t been touched. Someone pushes you as they walk by, another spits on your shoes and cackles when they pull at your uniform. A pixie-like women with a bald head catches your eye, swings her mouth into her companions’ ear, whispers a few words and falls into fits of giggles. A group of male stormtroopers watch your legs. They grin sharp angled smiles and you catch ‘ _deaths whore_ ’ said on the air.

They watch every step you take. The watch every intake of breath. They’re just waiting for an opportunity to stick a knife in you.

“They can’t say you haven’t got balls” Alika comments when you slam your plate on the table. “Walking back in after everything that happened”

You watch a few officers pass a note between themselves, smirking when you flip them off.

“Nosey, aren’t they?”

She raises her eyebrow. “You can’t blame them”

Yes, you could. If it means you’ll stop blaming yourself.

She forgets the part where everyone seems to blame you for everything. They look because they want to know _exactly_ how it all happened. How you killed Hellford, how the fire started, how Levi’s blood felt on your hands. Someone even asked how Kylo’s dick tastes.

“Good Afternoon sweetie” Kalea says, encased in innocence. You frown at her bandages and medical contraptions. She looks good, despite the burns and the bruises on her neck. She sticks her fork in her veg-meat. “They just let me out to eat– “

Alika curls her lip. “Like an animal released from its cage– “

“– for my health” Kalea smiles wiggling the wire in her arm. “IV Drip”

You eye your veg-meat. It was more solids than you had eaten in a while, usually you were vomiting your food back up when the tears made you gag. Besides ‘ _nerf nugget tuesday’_ , It didn’t seem as appealing as it once did.

Stabbing it a couple of times, you push it away.

Alika’s weary eyes watch your fork. “Odd to see you back so soon”

“I don’t want to be someone that hides in the shadows” you quip. It was a harsh bite into the flesh of Alikas secrets.

Alika frowns. She was wearing earrings of pointed spikes that swing around her earlobes. They shake as she turns her head towards you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she says, tone measured with the buried anger she hides so well.

“You tell me”

Kalea sighs. “Guys–“

“You’re really acting like a princess now, how does it feel?” Alika stabs her meat, still raw enough that blood soaks into her chips. “How good it must feel to climb to the top”

You grin. “How shit it must be to watch from the bottom”

“ _Enough!_ ” Kalea’s raised voice makes you spin your head. It’s not something you hear often, or ever. “You two always suck the air from the room. For once, I would like to eat our dinner in relative peace”

Your hand tightens around your knife.

“How about pieces?” you ask.

Alika hisses, “Guess you’re less of a princess and more a royal pain in my _ass_ ”

“Really?” Kalea gestures her fork between the two of you. “Will you two ever stop? We’re on the same side in this life and yet, you are constantly vying for each others blood. You’re ridiculous. Both of you”

As much as your hands would like to find a new home around Alikas neck, you let Kalea calm down the table. Alika looks up at you from under her lashes and you try to show your disdain from stare alone.

Without Levi here, you feel like a spare part. A part that fits nowhere.

“Whatever” you throw the word like a weapon and leave. Kalea calls your name but she catches on a cough and you abandon the twins to the war of the cafeteria.

You storm through the halls. Pushing officers to the side as you run down rivets and rivets of passage ways. A week was not long enough to bury your emotions, or to be prepared for training. It shows in the tense feeling in your muscles and the snot that slips out your nose. You hold the tears back by pure will alone.

You are not ready.

Not for training.

Not for life.

And not for the hands that wrap around your throat.

* * *

Someone shoves fabric into your mouth, large enough to stretch your throat without choking you. You grind your teeth against it, an animalistic scream folding into the cotton and sticking reeds of string to your molars.

Getting kidnapped twice is starting to affect your confidence.

There’s a voice at your back, feminine and shrill, her fingernails must be daggers because they pierce the meat of your shoulder, blood flow seeping down your chest. The girl – _banshee_ , you think – must find this particularly funny for she muffles her laugh into your back. Her fingers feel small and young and she smells like spiced apples – all of which you commit to memory.

The one holding your legs is male. You were sure of it. The hands are too big, fingers on your skin too thick and rough. Oil – that’s what you smell on him. He’s tried to cover it with some heady scent but it’s there, tussled among sweat and the cheap brand cologne. Engineer perhaps? Or cleaning crew? He grunts as he lifts you, spit hitting your ankle and causing you to kick your foot into the plush of his chest.

But your senses are skewered and he’s got the upper hand. He holds on.

The other one – and you _know_ there is another one – is silent. You sense their presence, but their feet don’t make a sound. The only touch you when the others throw you into a chair, then they hold your head back stopping you from headbutting _chunky-fingers_ as he ties your legs together. You count rings. Four. No, five. The have two on their right thumb. They may move like a ghost, but they feel real.

Light flickers behind his hand. The ghosts releases his hand and all you see are artificial lights and pipelines.

They’ve put you in an unoccupied holding cell, far below the steps of workers and far enough away no one would hear you scream. You tip your head foreword but you neck is bound tight. All you can see is your captors.

Three masks of ceramic white stare back at you.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. “Really? Masks? Are you making a shitty heist movie?”

Chunky-fingers chuckles, a dirty sound that’s gritty with smoke inhalation.

Engineer. No doubt.

His sausage fingers dance along your thigh, nails picking at loose threads of your trouser seams.

He wiggle his eyebrows in a way that should be comic, but just serves to make your heckles rise, “Would you like to be filmed darling? I’d make you a star in _my_ movie”

Okay, ew.

You pull at the restraints, feeling for a weakness or an obvious knot.

“I’d rather be murdered please. Is that an option?”

You’d rather die than touch a man who can’t wash his fingernails.

The banshee laughs her tinkering laugh again, hollow and squeaking like a door in the wind. She wraps her tiny arm around your neck, feeling your throat move against her femur. It must be for pleasure, as your neck was already hooked to the chair with a lithe rope of fibreglass.

A tiny sadist. 

“We could do it, yeah?” the lipstick on her mouth rubs your neck and she smiles. “No one would know, yeah?

“Bite me” you spit. And you do _spit._ Watching it catch the edge of chunky-fingers trousers.

“Trust me I would” he says, as though you were addressing him. “But we have company and it wouldn’t be gentlemanly”

You pull at your restraints. “You’ve literally tied me to a chair”

He waves his hand about as though it’s too heavy for his arms and sinks back into a chair in front of you. “Semantics”

“I’m surprised you know that word” a cat-like grin alights your lips, “Can you spell it?”

You expect the slap, turning your cheek slightly to the right so it was ready for him. Unfortunately for you, he slaps your left, whipping your face with enough force to split your lip.

You don’t groan or cry. You know the score by now, and Kylo showed you that being calm and concise will serve you much better than falling apart.

_Firstly_ , you think, _figure out what they want._

“What do you expect to get out of this? Money? Attention? Pleasure?” you say.

Chunky-fingers looks to the shadows and the Banshee turns her head from its space at your neck.

“ _Satisfaction_ ”

It’s the ghost that speaks. His voice — if you could call it that – floats on air, barely a breath but spoken with a conviction an actress couldn’t fake. He saunters from his space against the back wall, steps timid and barely brushing the floor. He is stretched unfortunately long, limbs partially starved with lack of nutrition. You see the loose skin at his neck, the hollow dent of his collar bone and the hanging fabric of his uniform. He was dying or, at least, very sick.

Although his physic is half-broken, his energy is viral. Anger is what you sense in him. Deep seated rage.

He obviously needed muscle to grab you and yet, you have a nauseating feeling that he was the boss in this… _enterprise._

You should’ve seen the knife coming. That would be your choice of weapon too.

It’s a beautiful military piece and he rubs it down your neck like a painter makes art: slowly and with precision. If it wasn’t for the threat to your life, you would be impressed by his delicate handling.

“Satisfaction in the knowledge that you are not special. You are made of blood–” he cuts a line into your arm and you bite your arm to stop from shouting, “–meat–” he slips the blade along your thigh, cutting your skin and the uniform you can’t afford to fix, “–and bone. Like the rest of us” he taps the pint against the nub of your missing finger.

He runs the blade along the left-over knuckle, the mirth in his eyes unwavering.

“That you are _nothing_ ”

Whether this comes from a personal grudge or the galaxies general dislike of force users, you can’t tell. Either way, it confirms what Laylan said; people are _talking._

You pull your hand against the restraints, waving it as much as possible. “I sense _jealousy_ in the force, better be careful or it'll smit you down”

“That’s not how it works, right?” Chunky-Finger says, wavering on each note.

Chunky-fingers masks looks at your hands, looks at your face and shuffles the tiniest bit in his seat. The banshee also stops her light giggles, she sounds breathy and less capable of full laughter. The ghost is the only one that doesn’t react.

Realisation sinks in that they _don’t know_ how it works. They can’t understand the force any better than you can, and they were too young to know the Jedi. You had an ace up your sleeve that they couldn’t touch. They had no idea what you were capable off and that gives you an _edge._ Technically, you didn’t know how it worked either…but that’s _irrelevant_. All you had to do was make them think you did.

“It’s magic, yeah?” the banshee pushes her mask against your cheek to stare at your hands. “You got magic in your fingers, yeah?”

You turn your head, trying to grasp the mask with your teeth. You catch a splattering of freckles on her chin before she dances away, keeping herself out of your grasp.

“You say ‘ _yeah_ ’ one more time and I’m going to rip out your ponytail and shove it so far down your throat that it comes out the _other end_ ” you growl.

The ghosts taps the knife in-between each of your fingers. “We’ve been thinking of ways to make you suffer–”

“Put her in the airlock–“ The banshee whispers.

“– but nothing was really right for Ren’s little whore. The women who ruined a base, yet wanders around like she _owns_ the place” the ghost finishes, running the blade on his thigh till the blood stains his trousers.

_Secondly, make them doubt themselves._

“You don’t know what I can do” you laugh, moving your neck lightly to relive the pressure. “Do you really want to test me?”

The ghost laughs, a puncture of air through the thin, dry lines of his lips. It would be enough to push him over if he didn’t prop himself up.

“Please, show us your _power_ ”

The force whispers, lightly, softly in your ear. It wants to come out, to be free of your flesh and let them suffer the way you have suffered. It is not innately evil but your mind twisted it. The water-like power floats through your veins, but all you see is Hellford. Levi. The burnt face of the woman on Canto.

The force is waiting for a command you are too frightened to give.

It feels like a river caught on the rock, bursting round the edges but not strong enough to break through. You _could_ do it. You had destroyed Hellford and more, adding three more to that list would mean nothing, and yet…

It means _everything._

Kylo should have never offered to train you. You could barely defend yourself now.

Banshee tickles your ear. “I don’t think she knows how”

“Maybe it’s not her powers that enticed Ren…” Chunky-fingers runs his hands up your inner thigh and your legs start to pull. “Perhaps the pussy is magic instead”

You bare your teeth. “ _Don’t you fucking touch me!”_

The banshee licks you ear. “Little taste, yeah?”

Then they hear it. A load howl, if you could call it that, singing down the hallways and through the open door of the cell. 

“Did you hear that?” the banshee titters. 

The ghosts ears prick up, but he shakes his head. “It’s a busted pipe”

“I know busted pipes” Chunky-fingers hands faulter and you push against the shackles of your ankles. “That ain’t it”

No, it isn’t.

That sound was the same sound that woke you at half two in the morning.

JD-1 has got a crisp stuck in his vents again.

The wailing echoes down the halls, the incessant grinding that you had become attuned too. In your quarters it was nothing but a petulant whining and, to fix it, you would lift JD-1 by his wheels and shake him until the crumbs fall out. Now, in the wide hallways it rung out like a monster.

It sounded like _opportunity_.

__

“That’s my creature…” your mouth says while your head panics. Each masked vigilante turns to you, waiting for more. “…of darkness”

“As if” Chunky-fingers rolls his shoulders, warming up muscles he barely has. He stands to peer down the hallway, obviously not seen JD-1 as his face falls when he turns to you. “There’s no monsters on this ship”

You could name a few.

“You don’t know how the force works like I do” you gasp, the neck tie cutting into your oesophagus. “It’s a tether, joining the light and the dark. Sometimes, you could pull things into existence from one side to another. Creatures dead and long since past can come back…”

“Seamus” the banshee warns, eyeing the lights of the corridor, looking for shadows that won’t come.

You’ll remember that name. And so will he when you carve it into his back.

The ghost pushes of the wall, eyeing the corridor, lips puckered. “Ignore her”

“And they don’t always come back the _same_ ” you fake a laugh, the witch-like cackle jumping off the walls.

The cogs are turning faster – the effect of JD-1 running – and the sound squeaks like a knife cutting across a chalk board. If he found you too soon they would know you’re faking it.

You whistle like you’re calling a dog and Chunky-fingers (Seamus) pulls your hair back by your hair.

“What are you doing? Summoning it?”

Summoning a droid made of spare parts and old converters.

“You better start running. It's hungry" you sing-song. 

The ghost sighs, tired of your bullshit. “The force doesn’t–“

Chunky-fingers slams his fist on the wall. “Fuck this”

“Seamus–“ the ghost warns, his voice wavering with annoyance. He needs them and they are scared.

The banshee shakes her head, ears pricking at the sound of a faux-demon in the halls. “Nah” she says.

“Evangeline. Don’t you dare“ ghost grinds out. 

The banshee, hair the colour of blood, takes Chunky-fingers hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. She whispers something in his ear, ‘ _worth it?’_ is what it sounds like. Freedom is what it tastes like to you. Chunky-fingers looks at you, runs his eyes over the blood soaked clothes and bolts, dragging the banshee with him.

Ghost goes to follow and then he sees the victory in your eyes.

“And then there was one” you lick your lip, split from excessive biting. “Think you can take me on by yourself?”

He bends down, the holes in the mask exposing the sharp slit of his eyes. You see the speckles of a beard coming through, light and dusting, not enough to be a man over twenty rotations. He’s a boy. A boy who already tortures for fun. How proud the First Order must be.

He sticks a finger in your wound.

You can’t help the sharp intake of breath.

“ _This isn’t over_ ” he breaths.

It doesn’t scare you.

You were going to make sure it’s not over.

Your mouth is dry, but you manage three words. “I hope not”

He runs. Leaving the cell with more speed than you would expect of someone unwell, but he goes, skidding down the hall and leaving you tied to a chair. You hear JD-1’s wheels on the tile and the sound of someone’s feet slapping the floor.

You never thought you’d be relieved to see Alika.

“Your piece of junk thought something was wrong when you didn’t come see him after dinner” she says, looking you over. “We followed you on the CCTV”

“An intuitive droid…” you smile and JD-1 runs to your side. If there was anyone could you could trust, it was him. “Who knew…”

His cogs whir and you have to stifle your laugh.

A creature of darkness: a droid made of scrap.

Your thigh is still soaking your uniform with blood and you flinch when he rests his little arm on your thigh. He whirs ‘ _hurt?’_ on repeat gesturing between you and Alika who, in her white suit, looks like the closest thing to angel.

“Alika” you wave a hand still attached to the chair.

“Princess” she replies, shaking her head.

Ah, the motherly disappointment. How you have missed it.

JD-1 burns your ropes with a tiny blowtorch while Alika unhooks your arms. For the first time in a long time, you fall into her chest, let her pull you from the chair and stroke her hand through your hair. You don’t fight the way she lifts you or JD’s hands pushing at your calf.

For now, you don’t want to fight anymore.

You don’t have much left.

* * *

The Mandalay sisters need for historical hoarding comes in handy: teas, books, elaborate plates, they have it all. As you expected, Alika opens a cabinet of otherworldly medicines -- many from planets you were sure have been destroyed – and dumps two glass tubs onto her bed.

You plop yourself down beside them, bouncing on the springs. Their room looks the same but the lack of Kalea created a tangible void. Her burn was healing slower than expected, an infection in the skin causing it to swell and split, meaning she spent more time with the nurses and it left Alika to her own devices; a dangerous praecipe.

One of the jars rolls against your hand and you swear the liquid _dances._ And _breathes_.

“I don’t need your help” you stay, standing as far away from the jar, “I’ll head to the medical bay and get Nurse Belhraina to prescribe me bacta”

Many men would pale at Alika’s strength and it shows when she throws you— _throws_ , not shoves – back onto the bed.

“Sit” she says, as if you have a choice. “You want the med bay to start asking questions?”

“They never cared when they left us black and blue as kids. I don’t think they’ll care now”

Alika flinches.

She knows what the med-bay were willing to overlook.

However, there are some things you aren’t willing to overlook.

You watch her as she sits next to you.

“Using the security cameras to find me huh? Like you used them to spy on me and Kylo? Or how you used them to find out what I am?” you say.

She rolls her eyes, the wrong thing to do if she wants you to stay calm.

“I saw you and Kylo when I was on security detail. It was my job to use the cameras…” she uncaps the lid on the liquid. “…and finding out what you are…I saw it on the Canto cctv”

She told others what you are. And you weren’t ready.

“I know what you’re thinking” she says, brushing a hand over her shaved head. She takes your left hand, grabbing it when you try to pull away, and rubs the gel onto the sores of your wrists. “I only told Laylan about what you did. As your trainee and your second since…since Levi, I thought he needed to know. But I can’t police who he talks too”

You didn’t trust her. _Couldn’t_ trust her.

“We were friends once–” _you were_ “–and I am still loyal. We may be cruel and competitive, but I would not betray you” her eyes are not brown, that would a meagre word to describe them, they are dark enough that you can imagine celestial bodies floating within, making her eyes match the galaxies themselves.

They speak to your soul.

You hate that.

She raises her head, “I hope you can say the same for others in your company”

She means Kylo – obviously.

But your mind spins with her past words.

_We were friends once._

You were, once. When the walls of the Finalizer were still fresh with lacquer and the closets were spaces for games rather than guns. When Levi would sneak comics into the nocks and crannies of tech your seven-rotation-old mind couldn’t comprehend. Back in a time where Stormtroopers would laugh at your games of hide-and-seek and let you stand behind them, straight back in a false imitation. Kalea would hold your hand during punishments, beatings that left you with bruises for weeks, Levi would sing – badly – songs from places he had travelled in languages he couldn’t speak. Everyone would dance to them in the box room you shared.

Alika. She was the one that was older – only a few minutes more than Kalea – and wiser (according to her). She would scold you if you went too far, like stealing a plasma gun from the storage or eating Levi’s share of pudding. But she would be loving. She would hold you when the cold set in, give her blanket up for another and teach you how to write in languages lost.

One day a general called for her.

When she came back, she would not play. She would not clap through Levi’s songs or hold you when the temperature dropped. She had the silence of a mime. She was angrier too, slapping your hands away when you pulled at her skirts and shouting at you until you cried for cathartic release.

She would whisper to Kalea through the night, words you couldn’t understand with a childs brain but could feel with a human heart.

Whatever happened that day changed her.

And thus, changed you.

You could ask her what happened that day, delve into the questions you had held for so long, but to do so is to bring it back. And even you weren’t that cruel.

“Be more careful, you’re not invincible” her voice is soft as she loops the bandage around your swollen wrists

Alika always knew how to play the game. How to manipulate and juggle politics and pleasure. She made her way through the ranks with pure cunning and knowing when to silently observe; something you have _yet_ to learn.

Her lashes flutter like a theatre curtain.

She wraps your arms slowly, running her thumb over you knuckles once, then again and again. She seals the wound on your leg, soaking a towel in blood. She taps your leg when she’s done and watches. Runs her eyes over your face, peaks the cuts on your face and doesn’t turn away when you look back.

There’s something you're missing. Something large and staring you right in the face, waiting for you to recognize it for what it is. Instead, you see the liquorice colour of Alika’s skin, taste the copper of spilled blood and smell Kalea’s honey tea brews.

“Alika” you swallow.

“Princess” she replies.

You run out of her quarters and don’t turn back.

* * *

Tomorrow, you wear the robes.

Not for Kylo. For Jeninne.

She sent you a message, well, a two-page essay on why her ‘ _blood, sweat tears and more blood’_ went into making these for you. Rejecting them was then out of the question. They weren’t low cut — thank the maker — and the ebony fabric rises to your neck. The trousers were tight, cut short and synched with a blaster holder: easy to maneuverer in. And the burgundy of the robe has short arms, hidden pockets for weapons and a lightweight material.

You see yourself in the mirror.

But it’s not _you_ really.

It was a warrior. A huntress. A witch.

You are unhinged. You are undone.

You are done with bowing, accepting, placating and suffering. You would build your sabre, you would become ruthless, and you would take your knife to their necks like a lamb to slaughter. People would know your name, hear it whispered on cobbled streets and grace the mouths of aristocrats and scavengers alike, they would _fear_ you. From the hurried hushes of men, women, children and monsters, from Dagobah to Dantooine and the star clusters of the outer rim.

No one needs to weaponize you.

You’ll do it yourself.


	22. One, Two, Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so they second lockdown has been rough (UK guys put your hands-up) plus I'm in a job where I have to keep working, so I've peen putting in a lot of overtime. Thus, my chapters have been very slow to update! I hope this makes up for it.

You thought _training_ ended when you left the session.

Turns out your idealism is completely unfounded.

First, he sends an exercise itinerary: Thirty-minute morning treadmill, weightlifting for two hours and high intensity session all before work. Then, he sends a reading list – Book of Sith, Rammahgon (which is a Jedi text he should not possess) and the Art of Force Empathy. Thirdly, a series of concentration techniques. These ranged from meditation to small, menial tasks to help you focus.

You couldn’t focus.

All that was on your mind was compelled into a jumble of thoughts, each woven like knotted string, nether unravelling enough for you to grab it. There was your training, Alika’s odd moment with you, JD-1’s fucked circuits, the three stooges who bruised you and, last but not least, Levi.

The generals had cleared out Levis stuff, wiped the whole space clean like he wasn’t there to begin with. Pictures, projects, notes – gone. They took his desk, his personal laptop, anything that was deemed First Order property and they made you watch. You thought they may raid his room too, but Vicrul – tasked with watching you– stops them. He takes you to Levi’s room, tells you a stern ‘ _five minutes’_ and turns his back.

You take everything. His personal notebook, the bottle of questionable alcohol on his desk, his brown sweater which still smells like him; a mixture of honey, cinnamon and oil. There’s the sticky note from a few weeks ago saying ‘ _please can you buy caf tomorrow? From your favourite lieutenant’_ and you stifle your cries.

The loneliness you have ignored is suffocating. It has the ability to swell your throat and tighten your chest, leaving you breathless and hollow.

_Is this what it means to be truly alone_? You think.

“Get out” comes Vicrul’s bass from the door, head turned away in disinterest.

“You’re a real unemotional asshole, you know that?”

“and?” he replies.

Despite his wide-shoulders and rippling biceps, Vicrul is your least favourite of the knights. Partially because he won’t succumb to your puppy-dog eyes. Secondly, he’s also a _dick_. You knock your arm into his as you walk out, a petty attempt to rile him.

He moves like a snake, ready for a rat to bundle into his path, and shoots his arm out to grab yours, sinking his talons into your flesh.

“First lesson as an apprentice–”

His scythe swings quicker than your head can avoid, curling around you like a viper and hovering along thin flesh of your neck.

“ _Don’t be scared of death_ ” is Vicrul’s venomous reply.

“I’m not” is your reply.

_I’m scared of living when others are gone._

* * *

Workdays are your reprieve from depression (which may be even _more depressing_ ) and your mind runs through your calendar.

You had a meeting at one about the ‘Equality and LGBTQ’ union – something the First Order is trying to eradicate – and a logistics data collection summary at two, plus, an inter-planet communication between you and the Trade Union at four.

Feet run along the hallways and you hurry to join them, keeping up with scurry and bustle that you missed when in your slump. You see Kalea on crutches, who gives you a mediocre wave and Laylan makes a gesture you think is from a comic (kids and their superheroes). Turning down the main hall the numbers dwindle, only coveted by a few meandering droids. The knights weren’t here.

But the Generals boardroom is in use. And you were alone. Which is why, at the expense of your knees, you bend against the door, placing you ear against the gap.

The Commander modulated tone, General Pryde’s disinterested snobbery and Hux’s uptight arrogance are the sounds you hear.

“– no closer to finding the girl, nor General Organa” is the end of Hux’s sentence.

“The General will come out of hiding” replied the Commander, voice bordering on bitter. “She always does”

There’s the scaping of chairs and the clearing of throats.

“And the girl?” is Hux’s rebuttal.

_Rey,_ you assumed. People seem obsessed with her name and yet it takes like poison in your mouth, infecting everything within you and making your soul keen with anxiety. It seemed to infect Kylo too.

There’s a _slam_. In your head you picture Kylo pushing his helmet onto the desk.

“I will find her”

He’s certain. Too certain.

And you don’t know why she’s so important anyway. One resistance fighter is the same as the other (that’s right, you looked her up).

“On the subject of girls, what about the other one?” Hux’s voice is the picture of curiosity, smarmy with greed and toted with jealousy.

General Pryde clears his throat then speaks. “Yes. How is our apprentice progressing? Well?”

There’s an awkward silence.

Further enhanced by your open mouth.

_Defend me, asshole_ , you think.

“A work in progress” is Kylo’s monotone reply.

The squeal that slips out of your mouth is full of indignation. It’s also _loud_.

You slap a hand over your mouth. If you get caught you might as well strip down, baste yourself in white wine, pre-heat the oven and wait to be _cooked._ There’s no hurry to the door, no blaster fire and the doors stay locked – so you figure your spying will stay undiscovered.

“Oh?” Hux’s tone Is enough to make the hairs on your arms prick up.

“Last I heard she had been tied to a chair by a group of new officers and half beaten to death–“ there’s a break in Hux’s words, a pause for dramatic effect. “–perhaps it isn’t _working_ out for you like you planned?”

“Bite your tongue” Kylo snaps.

Defensive. You like it.

“Keeping your apprentice under control is part of your duties now. She shouldn’t be gallivanting along the ship and getting herself into _disagreeable situations_ ” Hux snipes in his meninist whine. 

Something slams and you hear Kylo's voice above it all. “I do not need your advice In fact, I do not need to hear your voice at all”

You’re cheering for violence in your head. You wouldn’t be sad to see Huxs' head roll right out this door.

“General Hux has valid concerns” General Pryde drones with his monotonic tone. “She was estimated to develop quicker than she is. She is, after all–“

“Spying, are we?”

Your hand stops you from screaming.

It does not stop the way yours eyes bulge out of your head.

Ushar looks down upon you like an adult looks at a naughty child, waiting for you to confess your sins. Your mind blanks and all you can do is smile back at him.

Being on your knees for Ushar is not how you imagined your Thursday. Or Friday. Or any day.

You look up at him, fluttering your eyes in a way you hope is charming. “Ushar. We seem to keep running into each other. What a coincidence.”

He looks at the door. Back to you. Then back to the door. Ushar has always had a mythically fascinating look about him with his pointed ears, baby blue eyes and the knife-like sharpness of his face. It makes you feel overwhelmingly studied under his stare.

And he _stares_. Making you roll back into your skin like a retracting tortoise.

“Hear anything _tantalising_?” he remarked, eyes burning with mischief.

You might have done, if he didn’t interrupt.

“I was tying my shoe” you lied, staring at the grey of your shoes.

Your boots don’t have laces.

Ushar notices too.

Both of you stare at your shoes for a minute, while your brain fires on all cylinders. All you can think is ‘lie, lie, lie’ and you know – you just _know_ – that Ushar will see through your bullshit.

You stand, squaring your shoulder and hands on your hips. “What do I have to do to keep you quiet about this?”

Ushar sucks on his teeth, running his tongue over the points making an obnoxious mocking sound.

“Give me what I’m owed, and I may let you off” he bends at the back so he can stare at you closer. “Or I could tell the Commander about your _dirty_ exploits”

_Owed?_

You were very insistent on owing men _nothing_. Otherwise they start expecting things from you and that’s a dangerous game. But owing anything to a _Knight of Ren_ is playing with fire and you’ve had quite enough of that.

Still debating the nuances of ‘ _owing men’,_ you don’t see Ushars raised hand; Rather you feel the leather of his glove on your cheek. It’s not as rough as Kylo’s, less worn and broken, still fresh and new.

Kylo took that touch away from him when you spoke to Ushar the first time. The Commanders possession had crushed his hand and now he claimed what was taken from him. 

_You_.

He rubs along your cheekbone, stroking over the plush with slow strokes. You stand there, frozen and stiff while his eyes dip down to your lips. And your mind flashes ‘ _danger_ ’ In front of your eyes.

You push his hand away. “That will do”

He sighs theatrically, dropping his hand. “If it must”

His tongue is split – a spectacle you hadn’t noticed before – and he rolls each tip around his mouth with the commonality of an unshakable habit. “I like you kid–“

“Thanks” you grin.

“–and that’s why I’m telling you to not go down this path. Walk far enough along it and you’ll be too lost to find your way out” his smile has a sharks bite. “End your relationship with Kylo, leave the apprenticeship behind and _get out_ ”

When his hand touches your cheek this time, you don’t push it away.

“And what? End up with you?” you ask, your hands nervously fiddling with the edge of your robes.

His answering grin can only be described as _feral_.

He waits, ears pricking for the sound of voices through the door, but the drivel and droning of bureaucratic nonsense continues, leaving him unashamed in his curious glances. He rolls the twin parts of his tongue over his bottom teeth, mouth lifted into a smirk.

“I wouldn’t be opposed” he says.

You lean against the door, crossing your arms to keep control over your nervous twitches. Every jump of a muscle, every blink of his lashes has sweat beading on your brow. Ushar was, after all, an unknown variable. You could predict Kylo better now – not perfectly – but you knew his temper, his lust, his humour, despite not knowing his past.

Ushar was an unknown. And that put you on edge.

“I’m not telling you for my benefit little Lieutenant, but I see more light in you than your willing to admit. And you still have the opportunity to walk away” he murmurs, finding deep interest in the skin by your ear.

His thumb touches the skin between neck and jaw and your breath audibly hitches.

“What you speak off is treason” you whisper, peripheral visions scanning for straggling workers.

It’s more than treason.

A stormtrooper disappearing is treason. An apprentice to Kylo Ren leaving would be a mark on the first orders name, an insult to Ren’s power and make Snoke seem incapable of controlling his own people.

It would be a scourge on their legacy.

He shrugs. “We’ve done a lot worse”

You internally cringe at the idea of you and Ushar being _similar._ Killing Hellford wasn’t a choice. Torturing prisoners for your own pleasure – that’s a choice. A choice that he _always_ makes. The sick sadism of the Knights of Ren is not a secret. In fact, they make it well known. Installing fear in those they advocate to work beside.

His hands run alongside your neck, eyes pierced in casual curiosity. The space between you is unnaturally small and you can’t seem to separate yourself from his hands.

You swallow. “If you hate it so much, why don’t you leave?”

“Ah, you misunderstand.” His words come out on a laugh and his hands come under your collar, dancing on the edge of skin.

You wanted to push him away, or you thought you did. Ushar always had an otherworldly beauty, one that transcended the mediocrity of First Order men and delved on enrapturing. He was also one of the few you saw without a mask. Vicrul was too viscous and full of hatred to approach, Cardo was quiet to the point of ghost-like, Trudgen crawled the ship looking for a fight, Kuruk was barely ever seen and Ap’lek studied ancient strategy in his spare time.

Ushar clung to Kylo the most. And he liked to be seen.

He wanted his face to be the last thing his victims see, if only so they knew the devils face before they meet him.

His hand has wandered, rubbing up the sides of your neck until he could feel the way you swallow. The spindly line of his fingers grip your throat – holding, not choking – just letting you know that he _could._

“I was _born_ for this.” He murmurs, running his tongue along his teeth.

Perhaps he was breed for war. The Knights of Ren were said to inhabit the uncharted areas of space, waiting for a darkened warrior to make them enforcers. You, on the other hand, thought they were lost souls desperate for someone to follow, desperate for someone to let them kill. Dogs in need of training, discipline and blood.

The price of entry to the Knights of Ren was steep: kill another or die. And they made their decision. 

“Have you ever looked a man in the eye while he begs for his life? The satisfaction is like no other” he murmurs, eyes watching the contractions of your throat.

He grins, the canines the pride of place his smile.

“Well…” he looks at you from top to bottom. “..some things can compete”

You try to say ‘ _fuck off’_ but it comes out in an obstructed whine when his hand squeezes.

“You were made for computer screens, data pads and the vigorous amounts of numerical slop. I was _made_ to kill. I like to watch them _squirm…_ ” he says, fingers working up to rub you lip. “…to see if they’ll submit or fight”

“Which do you prefer?” you gasp.

“As the Commander will attest, I prefer those…” he clicks his tongue incessantly while grabbing the flush of your bottom lip. “…with a little _bite_ ”

You hear the scrapping of chairs over the rhythm of your pulse, and push Ushar with your hands.

Kylo could not catch you like this.

Luckily, Ushar has a ren-radar and jumps two feet away from you before the door fully opens. He gives you a warning look, a subtle nod to keep your mouth shut in front of the Commander. Not that you’ll be telling Kylo that Ushar choked you – you don’t have a death wish.

You barely had seconds to adjust your collar before they appeared.

“– see to it done” Is the last of Hux’s sentence, ordered into the room behind him without a second glance. As all ways, ‘ _lesser beings’_ didn’t deserve his attention.

Unfortunately, becoming Kylo’s had apprentice had made you _attention worthy._

Hux has a way to make your skin crawl, always wearing a look that could rip the flesh from your body. Luckily –around Kylo – he sinks slightly into himself. Enough that his eyes on you only hit fifty percent hatred, which, compared to the usual ninety-eight percent, is pretty good. 

“Two of your dogs seem to be off their leashes” Hux snipes, towards the room.

Baring your teeth comes naturally. And so does biting your tongue, despite wanting to fight him with sharpened words.

Kylo appears behind him and, even though you seem him for an hour each day, it can’t prepare your heart for seeing him now.

Can a man seem _fluffier?_

His hair had been scrubbed clean, the tangles kissing his cheeks in a way that evoked jealousy. The stubble had been wiped away to show the sharp cut of his jaw and the lithe expanse of his neck, the muck, grime and fatigue washed down a shower drain. His walk is straighter, his shoulders are rolled back and his top fits better.

He looks _very well_.

Part of you wished that he got all pretty for _you_.

“Not for long” he scolds.

Perhaps your spying was noted.

“Yes, well, some may need their collars tied tighter” Hux sneers.

“I’ll be the one to decide that. General” Kylo replies.

Hux nods solemnly, blatantly unhappy with his scoulding. “Commander Ren”

Hux spits ‘ _girl_ ’ as he walks past, and you almost laugh at the idea of that being an insult. Jeninne would have a feminist field-day and choke slam him if he said ‘ _girl_ ’ with such misogyny near her. Kylo draws your eyes to him, and your suck your tongue to hold in the anger.

“Ushar, take my little apprentice to the training room and make sure she _stays_ there” he grits, his teeth grinding in that uncomfortable way that lets you know you’re in trouble.

What did it say in your agreement again? That punishments are at his discretion?

“Excuse me–“ Is the start of your defence by Ushars jumps in like the _knight_ he is, all gallant and submissive.

“Yes Commander” he says, nodding a pointed chin.

He grabs you in a guiding hold, sending you away from the Commander with a hand on your back.

“You little snake” you whisper into his elvish ear, head looking over your shoulder to try and catch Kylo’s eye and scream ‘ _don’t leave me alone with him’_ by facial expression alone.

Ushar just says one thing.

"Hiss, Hiss" 

* * *

You don’t have to wait long in the training room.

Kylo, even when busy with his _secret_ duties, is always acutely on time. A military man none the less.

He seems tightly set, muscle tense with unused aggression and you quickly push yourself on to your knees, a sign of submission. He stalks up to you, cape billowing in his rush, to grp your face in one large hand. He turns your face left to right.

“So It’s true” he hums, rubbing a finger over your cheek.

He could see those bruises under your makeup.

You throw your head back, pulling it out of his grip. “It was barely a scratch”

His jaw tightens and flexes, tone coming out restrained. “Who?”

That’s what you’re trying to find out.

You slap his hand away, shrugging off the embarrassment of your failure. “I’ll deal with it. I am _your_ apprentice after all”

“My apprentice should not be so lax” 

“ _I just started!”_ you scream.

Ushar stifle a laugh into his fist, leaning up against the wall with cross legs and finding ample joy in your argument.

Not that he should be laughing.

If Kylo acts like this when a few lowlifes touch you, then you can’t imagine how he would react to Ushars' wandering hands. Although, it was flattering. Kylo may be attracted to you, but it’s nice to know that your allure hasn’t been lost.

If there’s a ‘ _sexiest lieutenant on the Finalizer_ ’ award, you should get it.

He brushes his thumb across your forehead, tactile and massaging, “Why is Ushar plaguing your mind?”

When will you learn that he is always in your mind. You need to train to lock your mind away, tuck it behind a skull wall and dismantle the key.

“He’s not” you lie. Badly.

Kylo pulls your chin back. “Don’t lie to me. He touched you”

“He touched my cheek. It’s not like he flipped me over and fucked me doggy style” you laugh, waving your hands about. “Don’t be dramatic”

He scoffs. “ _You think me dramati_ c?”

Ushar looks on the brink of running and you give him a filthy look. If you were going to get in trouble then he will go down with you: two sinking ships locked at the anchor. Kylo releases the clasps on his cape, throwing it to the side like the first time you trained together. He prowls twice around the space, his mind in the place of thought, far away from where you can reach.

“Could you please him?” is what Kylo asks, and you almost think you don’t hear it right.

Your brain short-circuits. Your ears feel like there underwater and it feels like it takes a few rotations for your mind to compute the question. Even then you can’t find an answer, it’s like searching for one pebble in a fishbowl.

“He thinks of you. Often” Kylo stops inches away from you, forcing you to stare up at him from your knees. He brushes his hand through your hair. “You seem to draw my knights in”

He draws you in. His hands hold your head against his thigh, stroking your hair like a pet. You feel his muscle tense when you look up at him.

“I though you didn’t share?” you murmur into the meat of his thigh, breathing in leather.

His chest makes an answering hum. “I’m making amendments to our agreement”

Kylo’s does not say his name, nor order him to you, a single look is enough to have Ushar hurrying to his side. An inexplicable tether ties the Knight and Kylo together, a connection that seems seated in the mind and built in war, allowing them to feel, think and move together.

Maybe they feel the same things.

It briefly passes your mind that if they _could_ feel one another, then every press of your lips on Kylo’s cock, every throb of your cunt on him, every time he came inside you – perhaps the Knights felt it too. Did they feel every ridge of your body? Did they feel the plush of your hips under Kylos’ grip? Did they hear your whine in his ear?

Ushar stays by Kylo’s side, wringing his hands in a nervous fashion.

A laugh is ripped out of your chest as fast as pulling a page from a book. Muddled with confusion and shock, it comes out more spit and air than anything.

“Teachers pet” you snip, watching him from under your lashes.

“Little Lieutenant” he barks back.

He looks to Kylo then, the shark of a man looking for approval that he _could_ mock you, that it was allowed. You don’t know what passes between them – something mystic, cosmic or downright magical – but it makes Ushars posture straighten and throw his shoulders back like a posturing pigeon.

Kylo sinks his hands into your clothes and lifts you, nothing more than a puppet on a string, you let him force you to stand.

“Consider this part of training. Show me self-restraint and control” his hands run on the sash of your robes, the glove rubbing along the thin layers of cloth. “Don’t cum without my permission”

You laugh, because you’re not sure what else you can do.

“Commander” you half-plead, half-giggle.

“Can you not handle it? Are you not here to learn?”

He’s really _testing_ today.

What is this? An exam?

Kylo walks around you. A butcher analysing his cut of meat.

“What can Ushars’ dick teach me?” you sass.

Ushar grunts. A sure tell sign of disapproval.

“Do you dislike my teaching methods?” Kylo asks, running his hands over the collar of your robe, only lightly brushing naked skin.

You turn your head to follow him, heating rising in your cheeks when you catch his stare.

“I’m a bit disgruntled that you think I have something to learn” you say.

His hand wanders to your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. He rubs it once, a small placating gesture, before he pulls your head back. Automatically, you open your mouth wide, ready for whatever he may offer you.

He smirks, a glint of saliva glistening his lip. “Even the best can be improved”

_The best,_ you think, _I’ll take that compliment._

He shifts his hands to the ‘v’ of your robes the pulls, until the sleeves billow around your waist and exposed the chest wraps underneath and the air was sucked from the room. Even Ushar, ever the depiction of ‘cool’, begins to blush as the peak of collarbone. Kylo looks at your bindings and nods.

Your hands shake as you unwrap them, more clumsy than you intended with Ushar watching. It wasn’t delicate or dainty and you wonder if Ushars been with many girls. It’s no secret that First Order men titillate the ears of Twi’leks in brothels.You just hoped you didn’t look pathetic in comparison.

“Kneel” Kylo commands.

And, as if on instinct, you drop to your knees.

“Good girl” he compliments, rubbing his thumb back over your lip. “How quickly get to your knees, you must be desperate. I have pushed you hard and yet, not rewarded you”

You nod, breathing shakily.

“Is that what you want? A reward?”

He thumbs your mouth. Swirling the spit along your lips, pushing it back into your mouth with unrelenting satisfaction written all over his face. He pushes your mouth shut with a thumb on you chin, until the saliva oozes out of your mouth and run down your face.

“Desperate little thing” he muses.

The road to hell is paved with men.

And you were going to enjoy getting there.

He taps your face, looking down upon you with the same reverent look he gave you in the shower. Kylo’s version of ecstatic glee was an upturn of lips and a soft stroke to your cheek. It was enough.

“It’s almost disgusting how needed you are for cock. Greedy girl aren’t you?”

Why are all his questions rhetorical?

Ushar stood beside both of you, unsure whether he should look at the sexual display and you see him stiffen in discomfort. Kylo senses it too. You can see In his eyes when he feels the energy, that nervous high that the knight emits.

Kylo nods his head to his knight. “Show him how wet you are”

““Sir, i…” you give him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Show him” he orders.“Do you want to disobey me? Would you like to be a brat today? I can punish you instead–“

“No. It’s fine” you stutter, quickly moving the material from around your legs.

“Ah. Now your tune changes”

Today was not the day to deny him. You’ll save that for tomorrow.

You hook your hand under your underwear, pulling it off your leg slow enough to catch Ushars attention. They sit in your hand until Kylo opens his, looking expectantly at the pile of black. You drop it into his hand and, rather than throwing it, he stuffs it into the front pocket of his uniform.

Your thighs, however, stay stuck together.

Until `Kylo kicks them apart with the leather of his boot, giving Ushar a sneak-peak of, well, all of it.

“Wider” he murmurs, his obsidian eyes dancing with pleasure. Your legs fall apart like opening a door. “Good girl”

The low groan of his approval strokes a fire that’s already kindling.

Ushar watches and waits. He can’t turn his eyes from you, and you don’t think you could meet his stare. He watched you with abstract fascination and Kylo caught it as well, gripping Ushars' shoulder in his arm.

“Do you see how wet she is?”

If he couldn’t look at your cunt, he could definitely see it in your face. Hot all over and blistering with ever roam of their joint eyes, you hold the robes around your wait like an erotic drawing.

Ushars’ face loosens with every twitch of your hips and he smile. “Yes, Sir”

“Is she like you imagined her to be?”

Your mind flushes with the idea that you have been imagined. And multiple times if Ushars face is anything to go by.

The next “ _Yes, Sir_ ” is quieter than the first and you find he can’t meet your eyes.

Your face is tinged hot, wobbling on the line of embarrassment and insecurity. To have another man stare at your naked form is unnerving. But you can’t deny the wet arousal glistening your thighs, nor can the overhead lighting when it catches on glistening skin.

The Commander sees your squirm thighs and smirks.

“Taste her” Kylo says, pushing Ushar forward with a steely hand. 

Thighs clenched, you hold yourself steady and waiting, knowing that shutting your legs would be disobeying a direct order. Ushar, however, seems stuck between taking something he wants and giving in to an order, or shying himself away. You give him that ‘ _are you okay?’_ look that women give each other at parties – that side eye– and you feel his force signature sway. It felt like calligraphy, perfectly precise in every move it made.

It wrote out one word: Horny.

Ushar kneels to get between the apex of your thighs. 

He just takes a finger. One, perfectly long finger and rubs it between your pussy. He soaks his own skin, touches it along your clit, then brings it to his mouth. Your body barely has time to react. Thighs shaking, heart pounding, you can only sit and watch as he licks his finger clean.

Kylo watches with faux disinterest then nods towards you. “Fuck her”

You splutter in shock and so does Ushar.

“Commander–“ he starts, but Kylo’s hand reaches out to stop him.

“Can’t do it? Are you too pathetic to please a woman?” He bates, the filthy darkness of the Commander seeping out of his mouth. “You fantasise about her, think about her in meetings and training, but when I offer her to you, naked and waiting, you can’t perform?”

Is this a competition of big dick energies?

Competition with men is just…ridiculous. It’s a constant measurement of whose dick is bigger, and you should avoid it.

But then Ushar gets a twitch in his eye and starts feeding his belt through his trousers, and your whole body starts vibrating like a ship in a meteor shower. 

“Turn over”

Body like a statute, you just _sit there._

Ushar tips his head to the floor. “Your front”

You look to Kylo and he just raised one eyebrow.

“Oh. Right” is what comes out your mouth. But your minds screaming ‘ _fuck, shit, bitch’_ in soprano, alto and tenor.

Feeling like the least sexy table, you roll onto your hands and knees, awaiting a hand, or a dick – who knows at this point?

You hadn’t expected to be ‘ _wined and dined’_ or a gentle, romantic making love. But when Ushar put his hand on your back and pushes until your nipples hit the floor and your ass sits high in the air, you realise this is going to be a _hard fuck_.

He also doesn’t waste time.

He tests you once, pushing his thumb against your entrance to feel your resistance. When your body gives in – quick as melting butter – he grunts in approval. Ever a _romantic._

“Can you take it like this?” Ushar asks.

No. No. No. You should at least get a warm-up.

“Can i?” you plead, eyes turned to Kylo.

Kylo kneels. Takes your head into his hands till he can rest it comfortable on his thighs. The dark threads of his hair rub the sweat on his cheek, the blistering excitement written all over his face.

“Can you? Sweet one?” he replies, not an answer.

It was a ‘ _get out of jail free’_ card.

Heart tittering like a songbird, fluttery and pit-a-patting with speed, you glance at Ushar. His cock was released from his uniform, slim and ready, his teeth nip at your ass once and you can’t control the swell of arousal that sinks right to your toes.

He’s rubbing small circles into the lower half of your back, face not shy in the study of _every_ part of you. One hand had wandered particularly low, playing with your outer folds like a man moulding clay. He smiles when you look at him.

You breath out. “ _Yes_ ” 

The confirmation is all Ushar needs, as he pushes your head into Kylo’s lap with one hand and enters you in one strong stroke.

It burns, lightly. Enough that you think you should have asked for that warm-up (or at least a stretch…?). Ushar starts to buck, pushing and pulling his hips with the power of an animal, making you suck him in with every move.

Kylo towers over, which was unbelievable intimidating in ever other circumstance. But, having him with you was strangely comforting. He strokes your head like a man coddling a child, mm-ing and ahh-ing with every twitch of your fingers as the bludgeon his thigh. Still, he treated you like you were made of the most fragile material, silk in the hands of a blacksmith.

You turn your head, mouthing at the metal as you cry out in blissful, fulfilling intrusion. You move your hips against his, ‘ _fuck, fuck fuck_ ’ slipping through his lips as he bottoms out.

It’s all hard bodies and sweat covered skin. Your head hooks into Ushars shoulder, his sharpened teeth leaving lines along your neck and teetering of the edge of painful as his hips piston against your back. Whereas as Kylo’s groans are heady and low, Ushars are a constant stream of profanities, a rhythmic ‘ _fuck_ ’ falling out of his lips at every wet slap.

He pulled apart your knees by hooking his hands underneath and all you see is stars. Stars, galaxies and the Kylo’s’ cock rubbing at the edge of your lips.

You didn’t see him unzip himself or grip himself to hardness, but you did see the red tip when he rubs it along your lips like applying lip gloss. The desperation in Kylo’s face, the _need_ in his eyes, that’s what spurs you on. You flatten your tongue so he can thrust his cock against it, letting your eyes prick with tears because he likes that distressed look.

“Pretty whore” the knight groans in your ear, his hands digging into your hips like a lifeline. “Fucking beautiful”

“Yes, she is” Kylo smirks down at you, but you can’t smile around his cock. He pinches one of your nipples sharply. “Aren’t you, princess?”

You might try and say something, you’re not sure. The sounds slipping out of your mouth resemble blissful moans rather than words.

“You sound so weak and pathetic” Ushars' whimsical voice tickles you neck. “It’s wonderful”

Your hands reach for Ushar, dying for an anchor or a crux to keep your body from breaking. Grabbing for the meat of his thigh and clawing for more.

“Ushar– ah” you moan into the crux of your arm. “I can’t– fuck– please”

In retribution, Kylo shoves his cock right into your throat. Leaving it sopping wet as your mouth stretches to accommodate him. He’s on the right side of rough, no need to ease you into it anymore. He thrusts against your mouth slowly, letting your tongue run along the underside of his dick and suckle on the end with your lips – it felt _wet_ and _right_ , your body desperate for anything Kylo offers.

“Don’t focus on him. Remember who owns you. Who keeps you in luxury, who sates you with his cock, who teaches and guides you–“ Kylo sighs, the sensual tone touching your ears as he grips your head. “–Who _made_ you”

The words should disgust you.

But all you hear is ‘ _own you_ ’ on repeat and your heart stutters.

He’s pent up, balls tightening in your wandering hand and you know he’s been waiting for you. You have denied him release for a while, caught up in yourself and life, and he had been _waiting_.

His cock twitches, a droplet of cum hitting your lips and painting your tongue. You pull back to softly suck on the tip, taking him back down inch by inch, letting him grab your hair and fuck himself back into your heat.

“Let me claim you the way you need to be claimed” he whispers, pulling your hair back until he can get a good look at your face.

Before he cums all over it

The cum drips down your eyes, nose and over your mouth.

“You’re a mess” he smirks.

The cumshot trickles over your chin, chocking your throat and soothing your skin, and it feels almost religious: a baptism of sex. Kylo pats your face as you mutter nonsense on his leg. You whine ‘pleases’ and ‘yes, sirs’ even when he asks for nothing, until you start to dribble cum and desperation.

Ushar might be full of himself, or get an ego boost because Kylo came first, but he suddenly grips your ass in his hands, folding you like paper and fucking himself into you with an exhilaration you didn’t expect.

“Please, please please–“ is pulled from your chest, screaming every time Ushar touches the spot within you _just_ right.

“Please?” Kylo mocks, the closest thing to a laugh squeezing out of him. “hmmm, you ask my permission so prettily. But this is about control and you are showing me _none_ ”

Fuck control.

Ushar has _none._

He ruts into you like an uncontrolled animal, the diligence and precision of the knights way of living falling apart with the bend of your hips. It’s hot and harsh, the tears fallen out of your eyes and wetting the metal floor. And all you can hear is the sound of your pussy being _destroyed._

You cry when Ushar grips your hips, pushing bruises into your skin. “I can’t take it–“

“– Yes you can, little one” the Commanders tone is stern, no room for question or denial. “Does it feel good? Tell me how it feels”

You think he’s asking you and your mouth opens, not willing to keep him waiting lest you incur punishment. But it’s Ushar he watches. The Commander bends to catch his eye, only briefly glancing at the sopping mess of your cunt, before his face bores into his knights.

Ushars' rhythm halters, stopping only minutely to watch his cock dripping in _you_ before he slams it back, cantering your shoulders into the floor.

“She feels warm and wet” he says, moving his hips in slow motions, “And soft”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it Ushar?” Kylo asks and the warning sign goes off in your head.

He pulls Ushars' head back, forcing his eyes to stare into Kylos' obsidian and making you the centre off two rival powers. One pushing, the other pulling. One a roaring flame, the other a wall of ice.

Kylo only says one thing.

“Now you see what you cannot have”

It was a competition.

A show of dominance and ownership and you were caught in the middle of it.

Ushars hands tighten enough to sink his nails into your sides and bruises the cleft of your hip, his thrusts stuttering in pace.

He was being punished.

Tasting temptation he will never have again.

And Kylo smiles. Not a sweet, understanding, charming smile. No, it was one of malice, victory and unadulterated satisfaction. The worst thing was… you didn’t hate it.

Ushar did.

He grinds his hands onto your back until the cold metal rubs against your nipples with every thrust, and he starts to sinks his nails until he draws blood and now you’re desperate. Your cunt in pulsing with pleasure and pain, desperate to let go.

You look at Kylo, question in your eyes.

You wait for confirmation and he nods.

“Look at me when you cum” he orders, and you do.

Your moans turn into whine, escalating until you sound like a pathetic porn star in a cheap movie. Delving knee-deep into pleasure, your feet tingle and your thighs start to cramp, then he makes one diligent swipe of your clit and you drench him. Ushar follow, coating you in cum until it slips down your thighs, holding his groan in by sinking his teeth into the side of your neck.

Like a dog dominating another dog with their master at the helm.

Kylo pets you through it, letting you come down and wipe your tears on his leather. Ushar pulls out of you and your legs collapse, the Commander taking the weight of your body and rubbing the aching muscles of your shoulders.

It was intimate and Ushar knew he wasn’t privy to it, so you don’t say anything to him as he stands to leave.

‘Ushar” Kylo’s voice is stern, matching rhythm with your panting breathes. Ushar turns to face him, skin patterned red with exertion and the marks of your nails on any skin you could reach.

“Do not touch her without permission again” he warns.

Ushar nods, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Commander”

He walks away like a scolded pet and you brace for your punishment, but none comes. Kylo runs his hands over your hair, your sides and the stitching of your robe, never once moving to hurt you.

You can’t move. Your hips are broken, your thighs shaking with pleasure and pain, back strained with previous weight of Ushars body on your back.

Kylo hooks his hand under your neck, pulling your head back so he can bring his mouth too your ear.

“Who owns you?” he whispers, nothing more than a worn breath.

You swallow against his hold. “You do”

“ _Who?”_

“You, Commander” your voice cries shakily, cracking in the middle.

Your legs may shake, but you can feel the movement of Kylo’s fingers as he writes on your ass with Ushars cum.

One name, three letters.

_Ben_.

* * *

Despite your sudden threesome-training – something you’ll have to digest later – you decide to work late, pouring over Levis’ rough notes as if you could decipher it’s meaning. Eyes fluttering, head swaying, you almost call it a night. When a shadow passes by the door.

It was nothing more than a brief flicker, but something pulls you to it.

An inclination of suspicion. A feeling of recognition.

The night lights are on (a mockery of the lighting of a planet to help officers sleep) but no one is in the corridor. A light wavers and then you see them: a group of three coddling underneath the hue of blue.

A slim, red-headed girl with arms like matchsticks. A wide shoulder black man, with a bald head and scarred arms. And a skinny young man, eyes hollow and hair a weave of black. When his feet touch the ground, you hear nothing.

One.

Two.

Three.

_Found you_.


	23. A Ghost, A Snake and A King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologise for the delay, i've been working nights due to the COVID pandemic and needing to work extra -- not my idea of fun. But, it's finally here. Feel free to contact me on tumblr and on here, and if anyone ever wants to join together to write -- i am open to it!
> 
> (Also, does anyone know how to use artbreeder? cause i'm desperate to bring my OC's to life)

“You–“

You nod.

“Yes”

He shakes his head in disbelief.

“With them?”

You nod again. “Yup”

“Together?”

Laylans’ mouth seems stuck, lips puckered and eyes blown wide in a comic way that reminds you of a frog.

“You’re really understanding the concept of a threesome aren’t you sunshine?” you reply, learning back into your desk chair.

Telling Laylan was a flaw in your cognition, he was, after all, a well-known gossip. This was your attempt at ‘bonding’. And damn, did Laylan need it. He had sent you five emails asking you to his pancake luncheon, one for a coupon to Ronto Roasters and six regarding spam Twi’lek porn bots – if you didn’t give him attention now he might die.

“Wow, ma’am.” He nods, confirming the information to himself rather than you.

“That’s…great?” he hedges.

Ah, the awkwardness of blossoming friendship.

Your eyes flicker to your work and smile. “We need to work on your advice”

“I’ll pencil that in”

You shouldn’t be shocked when he actually starts writing it down.

He brushes his mop of hair from his face to pin it back with the pencil. “Are you like, dating now?”

“No” you say.

Or are you?

“Yes” you change your mind and Laylan blinks slowly.

A sigh seeps out of your chest. 

“I can’t put it into words. We have sex and train together, but it’s not like we can go to a restaurant or anything”

The tone was bitter, but it was the truth. You were not wined and dined or peppered with public kisses. Even mistresses were paraded more than you. Plus, the last time you ate in a restaurant together a mad woman tried to kill you, you stole a mans ship and gained a robot baby.

Laylan gives you bittersweet smile, the dimple on his left cheek giving you a wink. “It’s not like you have to go to a restaurant for it to be a date”

Dates require planning; A casual invite to a movie, a letter of interest, a picnic on the sand. All you got was a gruff “come” and a beckoned hand.

JD-1 beeps something vulgar and insulting, the words _'Kylo'_ and ' _No balls_ ' coming through easily.

“Oh don’t you start” you scoff, tempted to pull out some of JD-1's loose wires.

JD-1 still holds some resentment for being called ' _scrap_ '.

“You called me here?” you direct at Laylan. It was your only day off from this hell hold, you had wanted to enjoy it. The papers on your desk could wait.

“Oh right! So-–“ Laylan starts as JD-1 zips wheels first into a wall, knocking a picture frame off with it. “-- Ignore that. He’s a bit wobbly where I’ve been removing pieces and parts”

He stands, indelicate and as clumsy as a fawn. Sometimes you looked at him and guilt hit you like a storm. Not only have you brought another person into this mess but he slipped into Levis desk like he belonged there. And look what happened to _him_. His sweetness, his nature, his soft deposition, you could tear it apart. Perhaps it would be a mercy for you to do it before the galaxy does.

He hums as he opens drawer after drawer, frowning when he couldn't find what he wanted.

A light flickers in his eyes, full of remembrance. “I made you something”

He faffs in his pile of papers, rummaging like a baby rat before pulling a grey box from the litter. He pushes his thumb against it and it whirrs open, pieces flailing apart until a chunk of metal sits in its place.

A claw sits in its place.

Frosted with cinnabar stones, curtails of electric current feeds up each sides and flashes under the lights with a wink of hi-tech luxury. There was no doubt as to where it was meant to go.

Your injured hands pull it from its remaining stand, letting it warm your palm. You tap the tip with your opposite finger and cuts deep.

“That’s sharp” you spit, suckling the blooded finger.

Laylans hair flops when he jumps, cheeks burning read. “Exactly!”

He offers a hand to you, still soft with youthful skin and beautifully tanned, and your wounded hand falls into it. He twists it over, noticing the missing finger but taking more time to run his hand over the scar on your palm. The first time you had used the force, you hadn't known then that it would do more damage than that scar. The weapon, the claw, wraps blue light over your remaining knuckle. It's warm and, if it wasn't for Laylans soothing thumb, you would have recoiled. Like a vortex, it suctions into your skin and worms it’s way into your very soul. It hurts, minutely, nothing more than what you've already experienced, then dulls to a mellow heat.

Laylan looks exceptionally pleased with himself, his grin bright enough to burn all darkness.

“Levi was studying new forms of weaponry like the ones the Knights use, right? So, I followed his work. its crazy detailed, his brain was just…”

His arms mimic an explosion and it sits foully in your mouth. The tightening of your jaw makes Laylan swallow and he rubs the scar on his nose.

“Anyway….” He clears his throat. “Flick your finger up. There’s a small trigger just above where the nail bed should be. Move it with enough force and it will activate”

You move once, watching the ruby claw mechanically follow the movement of your phantom limb.

He taps your elbow. “Go on!”

One click and the air was sucked out of the room. That, or you were very close to a panic attack. The claw shone with barely restrained energy, vibrating underneath the current as though it could not wait for the kill. You turn it over, watching the blue hue dance. This tech had been used on Vicruls sycth; ultrasonic echo channels that granted him increased cutting power and turned any movement into a lethal stroke.

The tiniest vibro-sycth was now attached to your finger.

“Do you like it?” Laylan ask, his voice not containing the childish delight.

There’s a ball of cotton in your throat.

Something about the heat, the way it worms its way around your skin. It makes you want to upheave todays lunch on the floor. All you see is those linoleum floor, the stench of oil and the heat from Hellfords’ body. Your hands clench, remembering the way they had burnt. Your touch on Levis crisp skin and the sent of roasting the flesh, the slick, heavy feeling of his blood on your arms, the way you had cried yourself into a panic, desperate for the next breath.

You had barely looked at your damaged hand. Not because it was scarred or because you needed the extra finger, but, because every time you looked at it, you wondered why you lived and he died.

Sweat slicks your hand and you have half a mind to through it down the closest trash chute.

Laylan waits. Patient and glowing. A puppy in a world of wolves.

_Those wide eyes._

You swallow.

And lie.

“ _I love it_ ” 

* * *

Ushar was your enforced guard to the training room each day.

"A _guard"_ Kylo had snipped when you pushed him on why you had to be followed around by his lapdog. _"You are a slippery one. You might run if i don't keep an eye on you"_

You had almost bit him with the rage you felt _. "I don't need a nanny!"_

_"A guard!"_

So Ushar became your ' _guard_ ' despite your huffing and puffing.

Kylo had a bizarre amount of trust in him after the _stuff_. Whether he believed his warning to Ushar was enough for him not to touch you, or he was testing him, you could not tell. But Ushar begged at his heel and continued to not lay a hand on you. He was still a flirty bastard, wormed out of the submissive shell he would pretend to have in front of others. But he never pushed too far. And, despite the warning bells in your head, he had become a reluctant friend, born out of an exchange of wits.

You stopped hating every time he was waiting outside your door and started to wait expectantly.

He let down his wall of dickish posturing and you stopped throwing your shoes at him when he woke you up.

Sometimes.

He caught the heel you had worn to the general’s dinner.

"It's been weeks..." He heaved a sigh, throwing your shoe towards a pissed off JD. "...I thought we had stopped the shoe throwing kid"

It had been weeks.

You hadn't apologised to Kylo for the first session. And he hadn't apologised for using Levis death as a weapon.

Instead you had both stewed in silence until the next day beckoned. Then you beat each other black and blue, throwing one another onto the mat over and over again until there was no more anger, just sweat and bruises. After, you had laid exhausted on the training mat, unsure how you would stand the next day, when he ran his hands down your arms, softly writing an apology into your skin. He worked you muscles, loosening their tightness and sending a shudder through your veins. His wide hands gripped your thighs and worked groan after groan from your lips.

Then he apologised with his tongue.

Twice.

"It's early Ushar" you moaned, rolling onto your left side and burying your face in the pillow.

"And yet _, i_ am dressed" he spoke, and you spare a glance at you nightgown under the cover.

The negligee had been another gift from Jeninne, the woman having long bored of the repairs on Canto and her lack of customers. You didn't have the heart to send it back, despite the dip at the back stopping just before your ass.

Ushar clears his throat. "As much as i enjoy your naked skin--"

You felt his stare on your bare back, more faux flirty than seductive but enough to make you shiver.

"Get the fuck out" you snip, and JD-1 -- ever loyal -- tries to push Ushar out the door with his tiny arms.

Ushar just smirked down at him an expression that says _'i could kick you to the other side of this room'_.

He holds an open palm over your face. "Five minutes"

Your hand gesture is more vulgar.

He lets Ushar lets JD-1 usher him out, all the while calling him a bucket of bolts.

Knowing Ushar, you could stretch it to ten minutes with a sweet bat of your eyes.

The words " _I mean it_ " swept through the door.

Guess not.

The false sun of the lights burns your eyes, as does your claw, still burning blood red in the morn. It aches to look at and you're still unsure of what Kylo would make of it. _He would like it,_ you supposed.

Darkness called to darkness. Like called to like.

You slither out the bed to get ready, knowing that if Ushar was following a strict time regime then Kylo must have some horrid training to beat you with.

You wore your robes, a now easy routine to fall into, and followed Ushar with a melodramatic yawn.

He chuckiles, seeing through your dramatics too easily.

"I was up early too" he says, pulling you sleeve up when slips of your shoulder.

Your eyes says your thanks.

"But you're a machine" you comment.

They all are.

You had watched the Knights practice, watched them move as though they could predict each other’s paths. It didn't matter what droids they threw at them, what weapons their opponents used, it would all be destroyed. Ushar was a serpent. He slipped through the men like water in a stream. As they moved, he would move between them, killing whatever he needed to along the way. Cardo created a wall of destruction backed by Vicrul reaping the bodies as a harvester, then Ushar would appear along the lines, moving to strike quick deaths. In his eyes you saw the black tar of darkness, and you knew he preferred them to be slow.

They used the dark side like a hammer.

"Is that a hint at my sexual prowess?" Ushar jokes and you struggle to match this version of him with the one on the battlefield.

You knock your shoulder into his, smiling despite it all. "Oh please"

The hallways feel cold -- eerily cold-- and your face sinks into a frown. Ushar talks and talks and talks, tells you of his training, of the time he spent with a much younger Kylo Ren, and yet, the feeling does not alter. You cast a web of the force, a net to catch a prey. It searched through the halls and even Ushar stopped talking upon the touch of it on his skin. Slowing your steps, you cast your net outwards, feeling past storm troopers and early risers, looking for the stench of death that haunts your power. Darkness called to darkness -- that's what you had said-- and you meant it more now, as you touched _his_ signature with the tail whip of yours.

As quick as a spirit. As quiet as a shadow.

Ushar drew you to a stop, his mouth tight. "Something wrong?"

"Something right" you replied, smilling with sharp teeth.

You had let your prey go that day. The night you saw all three of those bastards under the lights.You had wanted their full names and you had wanted an oppurtunity. One that was public enough to spread word, to make you a name feared. And maybe -- just maybe-- keep Snoke at bay.

The ghost appeared as though you had summoned him from hell itself.

You knew your attackers names, all except the Ghost, who seemed to glide through the ship like a spirit. Seeing him now, jovially walking with friends, makes your stomach turn. His companions walked either side of him, gossiping like a gaggle of teenage girls. The Ghost does not laugh but he pretends well enough, only his eyes giving away the cold interior under his skin. Callin is what they called him. He faked shyness at their jokes, turning his head at the right time to perfectly mimic blushing youth. In an instant you felt fury. They did not see the soul-sucking deviant underneath and the way his blade felt on your thigh, a thigh that still burned every time you put on clothes.

The instant he saw you, you knew.

The way his shoulders tensed. The way his face of moonlight seemed to pale. The way his nails bit into his palm.

Your tongue tasted of blood.

"Where are you--" is the last of Ushars sentence you bothered to hear.

Your feet moved quicker than the wind, your ears hearing no words other than ' _traitor'_ as you rounded on the man, kicking him square in the jaw.

He went down quick, slapping into the wall with a force you didn't know you possessed. Kylos training may have been doing its job. His companions start to run to his side, but one look from you and they move away. They were wise. As they did not know what Kylo's apprentice could do, what you were willing to do, for a bit of revenge.

Grappling with his shirt, you pull him across the floor, giving you room to stand astride him, the claw digging into his chest. He was barely a man. Body all spindly and thin, hair shorn to show a myriad of tattoos imbedded into his skin. Languages you did not know, words you could not read and you could not find yourself to care.

_Stupid boy_ , you thought, _foolish boy._

There's a light in you that tells you to stop. You can't hear it. Only the power that calls you monster, demon, _witch._

So you bring your fist down.

"That's for the kidnapping" you say, as the crunch of his nose is felt in your hand.

"That's for the threats" you say when the blood of his mouth lingers on your knuckle, the second hit bursting along his jaw.

The last hit was to his chest, not enough to do serious damaged, but enough to make his heart ache.

"And that’s because it's only dramatic if you do it three times"

_Again,_ a voice whispers, _again witchling._

You lift your hand to draw more blood. To show them what you are. Monster, demon, witch.

When the force halts it, drags it back as though bound by an invisible chain.

_Enough._

The voice is not Kylos.

The new voice in your head halts your hands. It called you into a web of the force, one that stilled your body effortlessly.

It was Ushars, that is no doubt. But lines of power spindled like yarn through cosmic spots in your mind, links joined by gold dust. Six. Six stars of nova power, each connected in your mind, burning, twisting, morphing around on one orbital. You had broken into Ushars mind and forged a connection to his, one that showed a map of the force reaching with a skeletal finger into you.

_Six knights,_ Ushar whispered along the link, opening his mind wide for you to see.

_That’s what you see._

You should mock him. Tell him they are all leashed like loyal dogs.

But you can feel it. A power waiting for a chance to unleash, a crippling itching under their skin which has been weighed, measured and shared between them. One did not exist without the other. It was more than a brotherhood or a family, it was an unshakeable bond forged by the planets itself and the force within them.

It almost felt divine.

In the middle of them all sat a sun.

Ushar sent a ripple of laughter into your head.

_And a King,_ he corrects.

That sun was Kylo.

Kylos’ powers, wide spread casting a netting over his knights. It shone with a darkness so bleak you could barely see the core of it, shrouding everything it touched. But within it, there was a open spot. A small glimmer of golden thread, tangled within itself, coiled and ready to be released. A snake in the grass.

_Now, let the boy go._

His force wrapped around your wrist. A question not an order.

The Ghost -- or should you call him Callin -- had stilled in your arms, letting you hold him like a ragged doll. It was the way possums played dead so predators wouldn't bother with them. Your forced whipped into his mind, breaking it as easily as you would eggs. It clung to his feelings, the shakes in his arms stilling as the force grabbed his mind. In it, however, you only found him...impressed. The feelings of fear or anger minimal to how content he was, how stirred he was that you would make an example of him in front of everyone, how he respected your boldness, most importantly, how he liked the pain.

The sick little glutton for punishment wasn't like the lackeys who hunted you only for enjoyment and jealousy. The Ghost wanted to test you, to see what you were worth, to see if you were worth following. He was fascinated by the girl who murdered the last of a death cult.

He had a twisted hard-on for you.

The feelings he had shown you that day were a well-crafted fabrication. He had been searching for satisfaction like he said, but satisfaction in that you are worthy. He was disappointed at first, annoyed you didn't fight more that day, but then -- then he saw the sneaky deception in you, the well-played execution of opportunity and he wanted to see how you would react. He didn't love playing the bad guy, but with you, with you he wanted to test your metal. It was a heady obsession with the powerful.

You thought to kill him right there and then ---- _except_ , a voice whispered in your mind, _except._

It was no secret that you were making enemies on this ship. More and more each day. The generals already despised your mouth and influence, Snoke was watching you like a vulture and Alika was somewhere in between enemy and ally.

One extra alliance wouldn't hurt.

_Here’s how this is going to go,_ your voice filtered in his mind and you felt his muscles coil under your hands _, You're a sick bastard._ The ghosts heart flutters, his answering groan not one of pain. 

You whispered words in his mind, shrouded from Ushars curious force at your back.

_When i call for you, you beckon. Am i clear?_

Callin nodded in your grasp, synching his hands into your wrists, wanting to keep your sharp nails in his skin. Instead, you drop him to the floor with all the grace of a drunken tavern dweller, his back hitting it with a small thud. Ushar is instantly at your side, wrapping his arm around you waist and pulling you away. The Ghost shuffles until he can drop his back against the wall, his companions coming to cradle him in some imitation of care.

_Do not say a word to your little friends, do not acknowledge me in the halls, do not speak my name. I could have taken your life today and i spared you. You owe me a life debt.  
_

Through the blood you see his crooked smile.

Ushar released you when he far enough away from the cataclysm. Your body had gone stiff, half with rage and half with enjoyment, keeping your limbs tight lest they lunge for another strike. He puts you down with the gentleness of a babe and you almsot scold him for it.

He did not need to be gentle. You were stronger than that.

"I won't bother to ask what that was all about" he says, as though that wasn't him asking.

His hand grips you elbow, anchoring you to his stare.

"Just a little revenge for my previous beating. It was barely a scratch" you shrugged, not wanting Ushar to ask questions. 

Ushar did not believe your half-truth, you could see the razor sharp glint in his eye. If only he knew how you needed allies more than enemies right now. He did not know how you felt when Snokes lackeys would sniff you out in the dawn, observing you with the keen eyes of executioners. And you could not face the judge and jury -- not yet. Snoke wanted a weapon. If you could not be that, well, you would be walking to your death.

To let the Ghost live is to create a life debt. One you fully intended to claim.

"Do you usually stare at your enemies for minutes on end?" Ushar questions, voice wavering on an interrogation.

How many enemies did he think you have?

You flutter your lashes up at Ushar, pertaining to the day he had stroked your cheek in the very hallway you walked. "Depends on how good looking they are"

Elbow slipping out of Ushars grasp, you walk away, avoiding looking back at the chaos you caused. 

You had to be the dutiful apprentice. Rens' whore. Snokes weapon. All of it. And you surely couldn't play the part if you were late.

Feeling Ushars frown was worse than looking at it. You knew, that in the instant you weren't paying attention, Ushar will feed this information into Kylos' head. Re-counting every second of it with the curiosity of a slithering serpent. Now you could see the connection between the knights, you knew they'd know about it too.

"I'm very thankful that you and the Commander aren't married" he comments.

Ushar split tongue slithers between his lips as he looks back at the ghost, who had taken to wiping his bloodied snot from his face.

_You're not much of a queen._

You must project your annoyance at the comment in your head because Ushar replies with a little snicker, handing you a small napkin to rub your bloodied hands. His next words are felt with a certain amount of comfort and a familiarity bordering friendship.

_But,_ Ushars voice feels warm as it caresses your mind letting you feel the contentment of the Knights force bond, _perhaps he needs more._

It took a while for you to understand what that was.

Approval.

* * *

You wouldn't call your entrance 'swaggering', but you held yourself higher, postured like a swanning peacock.

It had been awhile since you kicked someone’s ass. And the Ghosts lackeys will consider it a warning, a mark on their name, a message that you haven't forgotten the touch of their hands. A part of you wished to cut each of theirs off -- a sign to keep their fingers to themselves.

Your joy must have been written all over your face, as Kylo, dressed in his dark leathers, scanned you from head to toe. 

“This smug smile” he remarks, lazily spinning a metal staff along his fingers. “What’s created that? Play date without me?”

He eyes Ushar who makes a grand show of walking to the other end of the platforms, his brightly coloured skin a snapping contrast to the obsidian stone.

“Nope” you say, popping the _'p'._ "A different type of fun”

The Commander gives Ushar a _look_. One of those ' _we'll discuss this later'_ looks which makes you cling for a distraction. You pull the sleeves of your robe down until you can synch them around your waist, dragging Kylos eyes from Ushar and to your bare shoulders. You feign interest in the training, picking up a metal staff (Kylo had banned light sabres until you made your own. And becuase you burnt part of his hair once and he never let it go).

You blinked your lashes like an innocent deer. "Shall we get on with it?"

Kylos' eyes flashed and he ripped at his jacket, throwing it to Ushar who caught it with hands as fast as lightening. The rippling muscles of Kylos' biceps where enough to tell you that he wouldn't take it easy on you. 

“We’re working on forms today”

Fighting forms – of course. You knew these, you’ve read the books. Seven in name: Shii-cho (The form of determination and simplicity), Makashi (for precision and efficiency), Soresu (Blast deflection), Ataru (aggressive and fast paced), Shein (creating your own openings for an advantage), Niman (the diplomats form) and Juyo (the form of forcocity and chaos)

You were better at the mental side of training.

You could hold items with the force, small things like rocks and whatever Ushar had in his pocket that day. You could sense a force signature for miles, hunting down each Knight individually without losing a breath and making it far easier for you to sneak past them in the dead of the night. Your force empathy – now that was your true talent. At first, sensing people’s feelings was like bursting a long standing dam. The feelings of sadness, desperation, guilt -- all of it too overwhelming to handle in one body. Once session you had crumbled to the floor, screaming until you couldn't hear Kylos' voice or feel Ushars hands shaking you, not feeling anything but the tears that radiated from every cabin on the ship.

Kylo had knocked you out as a mercy.

He had eventually trained you to block it out. You built a wall in your mind, creating a gap in its centre and stemming the flow of others emotions until you learnt how to decipher who they belong to.

And yet, you hated the physical lessons more.

You huff an annoyed breath, “And here I was thinking all my reading was just for fun”

If eight hundred pages of philosophic bullshit counted as fun then you've been having the best time _ever_.

“You may develop a form that suits you more, but a good fighter knows them all…” Kylo continues, circling you on the training mat and pretending like you had said nothing. “…Some masters perfected one form, others created their own. For you, we will learn the basics”

Obi-Wan perfected Soresu, Dooku perfected Makashi, Qui-Gon Jinn knew Ataru in it’s entirety. All legendary fighters. All a world above you.

“I don’t know if I’m the good fighter you’re looking for” you say as you stretch, loosening the muscle in your calves from the torture-slash-run you had endured last night and getting ready for when he pounced.

“You’re fast, you’re diligent and you’re willing to fight dirty...” he said, speaking about the first session when you had spat in his eye, stomped on his foot and genuinely made yourself a nuisance. His mouth lifts, making him look rotations younger. “...and you have a great teacher”

“Cocky much?” you quip.

“You would know” he replies, biting with humour.

It took a while to compute that Kylo Ren made a joke.

_A sex joke_.

Maybe you were rubbing off on him – in more ways than one.

You spin you staff in your fully human hand, letting it loosen the muscles there, now stiff and bruised from unleashing them on the Ghost.

“Jokes from the Master. You’re in a good mood’ you smirk, bouncing your feet left and right.

He pushes the staff into your back, moving each muscle to where he wants it and pushing you to take the staff in your hands properly.

Perfectionist to a fault.

Moist air touches your back as the ebony-haired master speaks. “Don’t ruin it”

He runs his hand up you side, letting them dance along the taught muscles there. He either doesn't see the Ghosts blood on your clothes or choose to ignore it. The Commanders hands wander to Laylans creation, feeling its power vibrating beneath. The claw that had sunk into the Ghosts skin and refused to let go.

His lips linger on your exposed shoulder and you shudder, toes curling in your worn boots.

Soft kisses litter your arms. He brings his mouth down on every muscle, cut and bruise until he reaches your weapon.

_Like calls to like._

“This is new” he murmurs when his lips touch the only piece of skin left there.

His eyes burned with a ring of darkness when he turned them upon you.

The way he looked at you – Commander of legions, leader of the Knights of Ren, Jedi Killer—was full of so much admiration, that if he asked you to die for him there and then, you would have done it.

You pull your half-human arm out of his reach, just so you wouldn’t have to think about what that meant.

“Stop flirting and teach” you faux scold, watching his eyebrows raise in curiosity.

_Do not stare at him,_ you told yourself. All while your heart beat a tune as fast as hummingbird.

“We start with Shii-Cho” he states, wandering in front of you to assess whether you had done your homework.

You speak with a mock curtsey. “Shii-Cho it is”

You had studied pictures of lightsabre forms – Kylo’s version of ‘light reading’– and you knew the stance. Hands separated on your staff by the length of a butterflies wings, you focused on the writings. Form one was meant to disarm and, in the arms of a master, could be deadly. It utilises step-by-step advancement to cut off the enemies angles and establish yourself in a position of control. Despite the killing instinct, it was meant to disarm. Nothing more.

It was easier in pictures than in real life.

Kylo assessed your position, surveying the parts of your body left unguarded by your 'sabre'.

“Simplistic. Raw” he states, slapping your legs apart with the staff when you position yourself wrong. “Hard”

You tip your head, unable to stop the wry smile.

“Sounds familiar” you purr.

He ignores you.

“Its simplicity is its strength” he says, words formed with textbook precision.

“And I’m very simple” you joke. And when he does not rise to it, you poke your tongue out at him.

His eyes roll at your childish display, but you don’t miss the upturn at the corners of his mouth.

“Put that tongue away. I intend to make use of it later” He states, unwaveringly charming in a straight-talking manner. “Wouldn’t want it bitten off in the melee, would we?”

You make effort not to baulk at the mixture of insinuation and threat.

Kylo runs his hand just below your elbow, pushing you into a starting stance. It hovers along bare skin and you hold back from pushing your hand into his hair and holding him there. He smells like that mint body wash and sweat. The feral part of you wants to roll in it like a wiry fox.

“Just like that” he mouths at your ear as he clicks your arm into place, lips hovering along the space he often liked to latch his teeth to.

“Are you this touchy with all your students?” you ask, far more breathy than flirty.

You could feel his grin.

“Only one”

Perhaps it was selfish to hope you would always be the only one.

Once he deems you reasonable -- _not perfect_ , he whispered -- he took to facing you on the mat.

He puts himself in to perfect position. Your opposite mirror reflecting back at you.

Except his was natural, far more steady than your wobbly, unsure legs. 

He waited, waiting along an invisible line for you to cross it. Kylo always gives you the opportunity to strike first, just to see if you'll take it.

You do.

Feinting right, you slip to his left side in seconds, swinging the staff for his open side. You had taken Ushar down in training with a similar move.

Kylo expects it, bringing his staff up to block you, barely moving when you strike him. In fact, he slips past you, taping his staff into the back of your ankles, and making you stagger into the space in which he had been standing.

“Fucking—“ you mumble along with some other choice words, hobbling to ease the pain blooming on both legs.

Kylo waits for you to turn, if only to see the fire in your eyes when he smirks,

“Shii-Cho is not about clever moves…” he says, falling back into that perfect stance. “…It’s about knowing when to parry and when to strike. To see your uncovered areas and flesh them out, let them make a mistake and disarm them”

You mimic his body.

And he attacks.

You parry, gritting your teeth to hold your staff against the strike. It knocks you a step back and instinct makes you duck to avoid his secondly deathly blow. He lunges again, faster than any man you’ve ever met, swiping a horizontal line across your torso that you narrowly miss, dancing back on your bruised legs.

A gap opens between his staff and his torso, enough that, if you quicker, you could jab the staff up under his ribs.

_Too slow._ You hear in your head, as he hook his staff under the back of your knees and throws you to the ground. Back hits the mat quicker than you can swear at him.

The breath knocks out of you with an _oomfp_ and your staffs goes sliding along the floor. It doesn’t make it to the platform edge before the force drags it back to your hand. Unfortunately, still not fast enough to counter Kylos’ staff at the hollow of your throat.

You swallow against the metal.

“Take advantage of any opening your foe gives you. You may not live to get another one” he say, words heavy with truth.

He stares down at you, man and myth. The inkling of melancholy seeping into the forces repertoire.

He did not want another to pin you down like this. Anyone else would not let you live to try again. 

He moves his staff away, replacing it with another open hand.

You don’t take it. Standing on your own, you move back into the position.

Your smile is all teeth.

“Again”

So he did it again.

Fought you over and over, teaching you the moves through brute force and willpower.

Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend. Parry.

Those were the only words you thought as you held your own. He used half-strength, giving you time to catch your breath and giving pause when he wanted to show you a new movement, going over each mistake you make with pain staking detail. _Knowing_ that this will be the only time you can make mistakes.

Once, by pure accident, your staff catches the floor and slaps the Commander on the back of the head.

Ushar had snickered, inhaling half a bottle of water. His Commander and king had sneered at him and said something seemingly vindictive down the bond.

Whatever it was had made Ushars emerald skin turn the colour of lime.

If you squinted, you could see the connection between them. And, for the first time in weeks, you felt calm.

Good things, however, never last long in war.

Vicrul appears at the door and your face forms a snarl. He throws one right back.

Any news from the reaper is not good news.

One look from him makes Kylo stop, ears turned to the wind and eyes glazed. You feel the bond between them open, filling with words unsaid and images unshared. You can’t hear their words, nor did you try. You were unwilling to flesh out their bond and listen in on their talking minds, but when Kylo turned to you, face full of thunder, you understood enough.

The rebels had moved.

“Stay here. Practice” he commanded, eyes telling you this was not up for debate.

But you had training now. Even if your physical was not perfect, your force attributes could be useful.

“Let me go with–“

“Stay” he orders.

As if you were nothing but another dog in his pack.

You mouth fills with daggered words. Your tongue wanting to strike and draw blood.

But, he lifts a hand, rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

_Have patience, little one._

He starts to leave and your body follows, instinct and heart wanting to go, to defend what was yours.

What would Levi say?

He'd tell you to ask him to stay -- no -- he'd tell you to _make_ him to stay. To ask him all your questions, about his past, about Rey, about what he wanted from you, to not let him fall through your fingers. Maybe it was Laylans talk of romance that made your heart thud for it. Kylo hadn’t been around much besides for training, pulled this way and that, leaving you to work, study and mope. for once, you wished he'd pick you over it all.

He didn't.

Ushar steps in front of you, watching your legs sway to follow him, to see what he was keeping hidden from you. To know if he sees _her_.

The Knight puts his hands out, holding you against your own traitorous limbs.

_All work and no play._ You whisper into his mind, as Kylo makes a show of storming out the room.

Ushar ' _hmms_ ', rubbing his chest as though Kylo leaving without him physically hurt him. Perhaps it did.

_Do not hold it against him kid. Things are...difficult right now._

Your hands still rubbing over Levis' ash necklace, a grounding touch.

_Things are difficult for me to,_ you reply.

Ushar gives you look so much like Levi that your heart thumps. _He would make a good big brother,_ you thought.

His tongue slips out rubbing the edge of his teeth _. If you're horny, i'll give you another go._

You changed your mind.

The attempt at humour breaks the tension like a hammer, and you choke on your laughter, Ushars smile quirking at one side. He was not stupid enough to touch you without Kylo -- and your-- approval, but something about the casual banter warms your heart. You need allies and friends on this damned ship, and the knights would be a great start.

Ushar slips Kylos abandoned staff through his fingers, nails painted the colour of starlight. He holds it in the stance Kylo taught you, perfectly still.

"Shii-Cho?" he cockily asks.

You tap your staff on the ground, mocking his stance to perfection.

"Shii-Cho" you reply.

* * *

You twist the metal one way, then another.

And it still looks ugly.

Turns out your ‘ _idiots guide to building a lightsabre_ ’ was as helpful as a chocolate teapot. You had made the pieces, scrounged the parts and scammed whoever you needed for an emitter but it stills looks like a Jakku junkyard.

_‘The force will guide you_ ’ was Kylo’s cryptic answer to your latest aggressive email. Like he was some ancient guru.

JD-1 had followed you back to your quarters, fed-up of being pulled apart by Laylans curious hands, and now sits on your desk. He watches you work, diligently turning the pages of the books when you asked and reading along with you. After an extra hour, he lifts his arms asking to be put on the floor and you comply. Another hour and he starts pulling at your trousers, whirring incessantly by your feet.

“JD-1 this is serious” You picked the droid up by his head, putting him down a metre away before returning to your work desk. “I can’t play right now. Later?”

The droid seemed to frown, despite having no features to show it. He rides through your legs, pulling at your trouser legs and nipping your skin with his tiny arms. You grabbed one of his arms, dangling him like a fish on a hook before throwing him on your bed.

“JD, I’m being stern. No more games tonight”

More pieces of metal sit in your hands, the diagram saying nothing about where they go.

You hear the rustling of robot hands in your wardrobe and drop your head into your hands. It was going to be a long night if he was in a mood. A few pieces of uniform going flying and you groan. He wheedles back out of your wardrobe scooting back to you with a velvet purse in his hands.

“I’m sure your rock collection is great, I really do. But–“

He throws it at your feet, a pure mini-robot tantrum.

You were ready to scold him, to tell him he had lost movie privileges for the next week, when two little stones skip along your floor, skidding to your boots. It was a normal part of feminity to want to stare at rocks -- shiny, expensive, and possibly magical, you don't understand women who don't want them -- but these ones lit up the bedroom with the power of a thousand stars. The first touch of them cools your hands, bringing them to your face you see they were one rock, split apart by an eager trader probably wanting extra cash for each half. Humming in your hands, they seem to scream ' _finally_ '.

They buzz with the energy of a bee. Pushing your force into them makes them sing with orchestral power.

The stones of Ilum.

The ones you needed for your sabre, the ones you'd thought you'd have to search for in a pit of ice. And droid had delivered them to you.

You pat his head, a small apology for your attitude. “Now where did you get those?”

_‘Beach’_ he beeped, _‘Fuel’_

_Bothawui._ The place Kylo had truly touched every part of you, the placed he'd stormed into the water to grab you. The place he asked you to be his Apprentice. The place JD-1 had ran about pillaging.

“I should never doubt you”

This cancelled one trip from your diary and you nuzzle your head against his in thanks,

He would get an oil bath for his thievery.

Maybe a new rock bag.

You had no idea how to make the stones a fixture in your sabre, but, for now, you were content for them to be a nightlight. 

The night was short and darkness was everywhere. Any light was a blessing.

Grabbing JD-1, you attached him to his charging port, watching the little light on his panel buzz in pattern with the electric current. He short circuits once, parts of him jiggling with the sound of bells.

You smile bitterly. “You really are falling apart aren’t you?”

You lean down, looking into JD-1's open wires.

“What the hell…” you whisper to yourself, catching a taunt of gold rolling along JD-1’s metallic hollow. The droid was not made of parts that shiny and new.

Kylo had said something was dislodged, instead, it seemed something had been added.

A little jiggle to the left and the metal rolls: a small, non-descript canister that pools out of the manmade hole in JD-1’s covering. It was no smaller than your necklace, easily hidden among JD-1s excess scrap.

You use the glowing Illum stone, alighting it in the dark. Carved with a knife smaller than a tooth pick, the words on the canister screamed up at you.

_Username: LVV87X3_

_Password:JD-1DAD_


End file.
